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THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE 
OF THINGS 


.OCT 12 1923 



PUBLISHED By 

TKe Deacon FBxss.Inc 

BOSTON, MASS. 

































T#' 

E« 

1 % 


Copyright, 1923, 

by THE BEACON PRESS, Inc. 


All rights reserved 
COPYRIGHT IN ENGLAND 






©C1A7C0347 







TO MY MOTHER 







CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I Kenelm and the Red Leaf.1 

II The House on the Edge of Things . . . . 13 

III The Goddess. 18 

IV The Rain Goblins.30 

V Alwin and the Blue Water Children ... 40 

VI Stephen and Friendly Fairy ...... 51 

VII The First Snow Storm . 56 

VIII Stars. 70 

IX Wind .............. 77 

X Spring Wakes ............ 87 

XI The Stranger-Woman ........ 94 














I 








LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

. . . he neither saw them, nor heard the noise of their horses’ 

feet.7 

“We only wanted to go up and swing in the branches” . 33 

“Was it you that fell across the sky?” he panted . . . 71 

“Come and play with us. Spring. ...”.90 

\ 











O NCE upon a time there was a little boy named 
Kenelm who lived with his grandmother in a 
poor hovel on the edge of a deep forest. These two 
lived quite alone for all their relatives were dead. 
The old woman and the little boy were the best of 

[ 1 ] 


% 


































THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


friends in spite of the half century’s difference in 
their ages. Kenelm called his grandmother “Gran- 
dame,” which was only a pet name for grandmother, 
and she called him just “Kenelm,” which showed that 
she respected him and was always courteous to him, 
even though he was so little. 

They were very poor. The only living they 
had was the few pennies a week that Grandame could 
make by selling toys, which she carved out of bits 
of wood that Kenelm picked up for her in the forest. 
She sold the toys tot the children who lived in the 
village, down in the valley. Kenelm used to carry 
the toys down to the children, for the children never 
would have dared to go up to Grandame’s hovel; and 
they were even afraid of little Kenelm, for their 
mothers had told them that Grandame was a witch. 
There was no reason for anyone’s thinking Grandame 
a witch, except, perhaps, that she made toys so 
cleverly. 

Kenelm was a lonely little boy because he had no 
other little boys to play with. Because he was so 
poor and wore such mean clothes, the village mothers 
did not want their children to make friends with him. 

“There is no need in being so poor!” they would 
say to one another, when he passed their gates with 
a basket of toys on his arm. “Nobody else is so poor! 
See, he hasn’t even shoes on his feet! It must all be 
because of Grandame’s being a witch!” 

But, except for his mean clothes, Kenelm looked 

[ 2 ] 


KENELM AND THE RED LEAF 

not so very different from any of the village children. 
He was seven years old, rather small for his age, but 
wonderfully sturdy. His light brown hair grew 
thick and strong on his head, and Grandame kept it 
clipped short just above his ears. His eyes were wide 
and blue and seemed to say, “I want to be friends 
with everyone. Be friends with me!” 

But the village mothers always looked away and 
would not see his eyes. As for the children, they 
were always so greedily peeping into the basket at 
the toys there, they never thought of him. So it hap¬ 
pened that Ivenelm was usually glad when the last 
toy was sold and he could run away out of the village 
and play by himself in the forest. But in spite of 
everything, Kenelm was destined to be happy. This 
is the story of his happiness, and this is how it began: 

One morning, late in the fall, Grandame awoke to 
find it suddenly very cold. She went over to 
Kenelm’s little bed on the floor by the hearth and 
shook him awake, but gently. 

“Quick, be up! Bun into the forest and fetch me 
some sticks. It is high time for a fire. Winter has 
.come!” she cried. 

Kenelm jumped up. “Let’s have breakfast first,” 
he begged. “For it is so cold in the forest on a morn¬ 
ing like this when I have no breakfast in me! I shall 
freeze!” 

Grandame’s face fell. “The last bit of bread is 
gone,” she said, “and there will be no more until we 

[3] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 

have sold a toy or two. The children seem tired of 
all the old kinds. But find me a good piece of wood 
to carve, as you return, and I will make something 
to open their eyes,—an elf that grins, and has long 
pointed ears! How they will laugh! And we shall 
feast!” 

To have no bread until that night! Kenelm felt 
already that he was starving. But he ran bravely 
out of the hovel into the forest, calling hopefully back 
over his shoulder, “I’ll try to find some nuts, too, and 
we shall breakfast on those.” 

The air was sharp and frosty. There were little 
patches of thin ice in the hollows. Kenelm liked to 
stick his toes into them, when he had shoes on, and 
see the ice crackle and burst into a million sparkling 
bits,—but it was not really winter yet, so he was bare¬ 
foot, for he had to save his shoes until the snow 
should come. Now he drew his little jacket tightly 
about him and, shivering, began to look around on 
the ground for dead branches that might have been 
blown down by last night’s wind. 

At that minute a fiery red leaf drifted down from 
the forest-roof, skipped along the ground a little 
way, and then sprang up to whirl and dance in the 
air. Kenelm was surprised to see the red leaf, be¬ 
cause the trees were mostly bare, and whatever leaves 
were flying around were brown and withered ones. 
He watched it dancing before him, wide-eyed, until he 

[4] 


KENELM AND THE RED LEAF 

thought, “Oh, I must catch it and take it home to 
Grandame, it is so red!” 

But that leaf was not so easy to catch as he had 
imagined. The wind whisked it on and on, and now 
hundreds and hundreds of dead brown leaves were 
flying with it straight away into the deep forest. 
Kenelm ran after, and sometimes his hands almost 
closed on it, but, just in the nick of time, it always 
got away, now spinning high in the air above his head, 
now skimming the ground much faster than he could 
ever run. 

At last he cried, “It’s a mad leaf! I’ll never catch 
it,” and he stopped, panting and leaning against a 
tree. Then quite suddenly the leaf turned about and 
came toward him right against the wind, while the 
hundreds and hundreds of dead brown leaves swept 
on like a storm and were lost in the forest. 

Soon Kenelm saw how it was that the leaf could 
come against the wind, for it was not a leaf at all, 
but a woman in a red cloak. 

She was beautiful. Her hair was black, black as 
the forest at dead of night, and it hung heavily just 
to her shoulders. Out of this black hair her face 
shone palely. But her eyes were filled with leap¬ 
ing lights that danced, and kept dancing, out and in, 
making Kenelm think of the red leaf he had just 
been chasing. 

This Stranger-Woman came up to Kenelm and 

[ 5 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


looked at him fully. Then she would have gone on, 
but Kenelm put out his hand and took hold of her 
bright cloak. 

“Oh, do not go away. Wait. I am lonely, and 
your face is friendly!” he said longingly. 

Perhaps it was wonder at Kenelm’s courage, or 
perhaps pity for his poor cold feet, for she did stay 
and asked, “What have you there in your other hand, 
little friend?” 

“Oh, this is only a dead stick to make a fire with.” 

The light stood still in the Stranger-Woman’s 
eyes at his answer. She looked amazed. 

“Only a stick!” she exclaimed. “Little boy, the 
thing you have in your hand is a wonderful thing. 
Come, sit down by me on this log and I will teach you 
how to make songs about just such wonderful 
things.” 

So Kenelm sat down beside the Stranger-Woman 
on a log in the deep, cold forest while she taught him 
how to make little verses about common things, such 
as sticks and stones and grass and houses and mills 
and fires, and heat and cold and roads—and many 
other wonderful, common things. 

When he was all taught,—“Now make verses,” 
said the Stranger-Woman, “and you will forget that 
you are hungry and cold and lonely. I have taught 
you a fine thing!” 

Then she drew her red cloak about her, and the 
wind carried a fiery red leaf, dancing and rustling 

[ 6 ] 



he neither saw them , nor heard the noise of their horses'* feet 




































































































































KENELM AND THE RED LEAF 


over the brown earth-floor, far away into the deep¬ 
est place in the forest. Kenelm stared after it. 
“She was only a leaf after all,” he thought. He 
gathered his arms full of dead branches, found a 
piece of wood right for Grandame to make into an 
elf, and started for home. 

On his way, he came on to the road leading down 
into the village, for it skirted the forest at that place. 
There he sat down on a stone and began to sing a 
song about the fire he and Grandame would make 
with the branches he was carrying. It was his first 
song, and as he sang he was very glad that the 
Stranger-Woman had taught him how to make 
them. 

You sticks, that seem so dead. 

Shall stir again, 

And bloom like summer roses 
And be a flame. 

Then we shall laugh out loud 
As we draw near. 

In frosty winter weather 
We love your cheer. 

He was so pleased with the words that sang them¬ 
selves into his head that he very soon forgot how cold 
and hungry he was, and finally even forgot that he 
was sitting by the road, for when the Queen with 
some ladies and knights of her court came riding by, 
he neither saw them, nor heard the noise of their 
horses’ feet. But they saw him and heard the song 

[7] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 

he was singing. And they drew up their horses and 
sat very quietly, waiting for it to end. 

It was only a little song, but when Kenelm came to 
the end, he liked it so well that he went straight back 
to the beginning and sang it all over again, in a 
louder voice. 

When he at last looked up, there sat the Queen on 
her high horse, and behind her were ladies and 
knights on horses just as high. They were all look¬ 
ing smilingly at Kenelm. It was the Queen who was 
the most smiling, however, for she loved little chil¬ 
dren and little songs. 

“The boy is a poet,” she cried, “and there can 
never be too many poets in a kingdom! But oh, we 
have found this little songster just in time! For 
see how poor he seems, and cold and pinched! We 
must take him home with us to live at the Castle. 
We must see that he never suffers like this again!” 

She motioned and one of the knights rode for¬ 
ward and lifted Kenelm high, high and set him before 
him on his horse. Kenelm’s heart leapt with fear. 
He hid his face. “Don’t take me away,” he cried. 

The Queen was surprised. “Don’t you want to 
come with us?” she asked. 

Kenelm was only a little boy and he could not keep 
the frightened tears from his eyes. 

“Grandame would freeze if I went. I get sticks 
for her fire!” 

The Queen laughed and so did the others. “If 

[ 8 ] 


KENELM AND THE RED LEAF 


that is all that is troubling you,” she said, “we will see 
that your Grandame has plenty of fire. Come with 
us and we will make you rich and happy, little song¬ 
ster.” 

But Kenelm still shook his head. “Grandame 
would miss me too much,” he whispered, trembling. 

“What can the funny little fellow mean?” asked 
the Queen. She was really puzzled. 

The others shook their heads, too, in a wondering 
way, except one of the ladies who timidly suggested, 
“He may mean that he loves his Grandame, and that 
she would be sad to lose him.” 

“Oh,” said the Queen, “then he must stay with 
her. . . . But be sure that you write down all your 
songs, little poet, and save them for me. You shall 
come to see the Castle and sing for us. And you 
shall have a pension for being a poet and showing 
us the beautiful side of things. And the pension 
will be big enough, too, to keep any child happy. 
Come here to me.” 

Kenelm slipped down from the great horse, and 
went and stood on tiptoe by the Queen. She bent 
and whispered into his ear how much his pen¬ 
sion would be, and when he was to come to see her 
first. It was a very large sum for a little boy to 
have every year for his own. And he was to go to 
the Queen tomorrow. He was overwhelmed. 

Just then his eyes fell for the first time on the little 
Princess who was sitting on her own little pony 

[ 9 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


behind her mother. Her face was like a pink rose 
petal and her long shining hair blew all about in the 
wind. Kenelm, looking at her sweetness, suddenly 
remembered his bare feet and mean clothes. He felt 
ashamed and looked away from the little Princess. 

Then the company moved on. But Kenelm stood 
wriggling his bare toes and looking down at them 
very hard until the last one of that company had 
ridden away. It was then he remembered that he 
had not taken off his cap to the Queen. But after 
all he had none, so how could he have taken it off if 
he had remembered his manners! 

No, he would not fret about that. He began to 
run and leap and speed along towards home. He, 
lonely little Kenelm, despised by the villagers and 
their children, was to make songs for the Queen! 
Oh! Ah-h-h! . . . 

Grandame met him at the door. “It took you a 
long time,” she said, “and it is terribly, terribly cold 
inside. But after all you are a good boy!” 

Her scoldings always ended with “But you are a 
good boy!” 

The good boy threw his armful of branches on to 
the floor, seized Grandame’s hands and jumped up 
and down, and then up and down again, too full of 
joy, and too short of breath to tell her what had 
happened. Soon she made him sit down on a little 
stool till his breath should come back. 

While waiting for Kenelm to get his breath, 

[ 10 ] 


KENELM AND THE RED LEAF 

Grandame built and lighted the fire. When it was 
blazing away, they drew their stools up to it; and then 
Kenelm told all about the Stranger-Woman, the 
song and the Queen. 

“But how can something first be a leaf, and then a 
woman, and then a leaf again?” he interrupted him¬ 
self once to ask. 

“Nobody knows. Things like that just are,” said 
Grandame. 

When he told how the Queen had wanted to carry 
him off to the Castle, Grandame looked uneasy, but 
she did not say anything. But when he told how 
he had shaken his head and said he could not leave 
Grandame, she suddenly, and to his utter surprise, 
threw her apron over her head and burst into tears. 
Quickly she dried her eyes and laughed. 

“Ah, Kenelm dear,” she cried, “you gave me such 
a fright! I thought perhaps you had gone with 
them!” 

Then how Kenelm laughed! For that Grandame 
had been thinking he could be in two places at once 
was very funny. 

When all was told, Grandame had only one ques¬ 
tion. It was: “What are we going to do with all 
that money?” 

Kenelm had already thought of that. “We’ll tear 
down this little hovel and build a real house first, and 
then we’ll ask the village orphans to come and live 
in it with us. Five boys living in one house and play- 

[ii] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 

ing together all day long! How happy! How 
happy! There is plenty of pension for that, isn’t 
there?” 

Yes, Grandame thought that the pension the 
Queen had promised would do quite well for a family 
of five boys. And when Kenelm next day went to 
see the Queen as he had promised, he told her the 
plan. She listened with bent head and Kenelm saw 
tears sparkling in her eyes. “Queens wear them like 
jewels, maybe,” he thought. 

“That is a fine idea,” she said at last. “I shall see 
to the building of the house myself. By spring it 
should be done.” 

Kenelm clapped his hands. 


[12] 





T HE four children who were called the “village 
orphans 5 ’ were very unfortunate little beings 
until that wonderful spring day of spring days when 
they went up to live with Kenelm and Grandame in 
the new house. 

They were four brothers whose mother and father 
had died, and left them all alone in the world, when 
they were very little. Because almost every family 

[ 13 ] 















THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


in the village already had several children in it, there 
was no one who wanted to adopt the orphans. So 
the village mothers hit upon a plan— 

“We will have to take turns in caring for them,” 
they said, “for we can’t let them starve in our midst!” 

And that is how it came about that these children 
never had known a home but had been passed from 
house to house all their lives. As soon as they were 
big enough to help at all, they were set to carrying 
water, sweeping* hearths, and tending fires. While 
other children played happily in the village streets, 
the orphans must do nothing but work, work, till 
their little backs ached, and their child-hearts were 
near to breaking. Perhaps it was because the vil¬ 
lage mothers gave so much love to their own chil¬ 
dren, they had so little to spare for the four homeless 
boys. 

But everything was changed for the orphans that 
wonderful spring day of spring days when they went 
up to make their home with Kenelm and Grandame 
in the new house. 

The house was large and square and painted white. 
Blinds had never been heard of in that country; so 
the windows that ran all round the house made it 
seem a place to be looked out of instead of into. 
Kenelm called the windows the “eyes of the house.” 

Although the house looked so grand and large from 
the village below, it was really very plain. Will you 

[14] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 

believe me when I tell you there were only three 
rooms? Well, that is all there were. 

First and best of all, was the great kitchen. One 
came right into it through the front door. All the 
cooking was done there in a fireplace. The dining 
table was there, standing in the middle of the floor. 
The windows looked out of the kitchen on three sides, 
for it was the whole front of the house. 

Back of the kitchen was the sleeping room. Five 
little oaken chests stood there in a row. Every child 
had a chest of his own, and in it he kept his clothes 
and everything in the world that belonged to him. 
Across the covers of these chests mattresses were 
spread and over the mattresses were thrown light, 
bright blankets. The children slept on these chests 
as we sleep in our beds. There was nothing else in 
that room, for nothing else was needed. It was only 
a place to sleep in. There were windows on two 
sides there. Six windows looked towards the east, 
and you can imagine how the sunshine flooded in 
early in the morning! 

The last room of all was Grandame’s. It was 
much smaller than the other two. The walls were 
mostly windows, and in front of the windows ran a 
work bench. Grandame still went on with her toy¬ 
making because she liked to. Only now she gave 
the toys away to any child who asked. 

Just at first, the orphans were shy and quiet, for 

[ 15 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


they had been treated harshly so long they had al¬ 
most forgotten that kindness and joy and good fun 
were still in the world. But before they had finished 
their first meal in the happy kitchen they had learned 
to laugh and to be merry.—What a picture this queer 
new family made at the table! 

At the head sat Grandame. Oh, you have never 
seen a grandmother like Grandame! She was little 
and frail, but light and airy as a thin blade of grass 
that waves and sparkles in the wind and sun. 

At her right sat Peter. He must have been about 
eleven years old. He was big and sturdy, with 
laughing blue eyes and a freckled face. 

Then came Stephen, a beautiful boy, with long 
curling lashes, very shy and very gentle. 

At the foot of the table sat Kenelm. Kenelm, as 
you know, was a poet-boy with a friendly face for all 
the world. 

Alwin came next. He was overflowing with 
life. Seeing him there at the table, one expected 
him to jump up at any minute and run, run, run 
away. 

Little Christopher was the youngest. He sat at 
Grandame’s left hand. He was a chubby little fel¬ 
low with blowing curls and eyes brimmed full of 
wonder. 

There you have the children, and the children’s 
house. Now you shall have their adventures—for 
they were many and strange. That was a wonderful 

[ 16 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


forest behind their house. It was full of fairy crea¬ 
tures! 


In the spring, when the wind blows, 

Everything has wings,— 

The tall trees, the white clouds, 

Birds, grass, Earth-Children's feet, 

And the House on the Edge of Things . 1 

Wings! Wings! 

Spring gives everything wings ! 

(From Kenelm’s verses.) 

i Kenelm named his house the “House on the Edge of Things” be¬ 
cause it came into his verse and rhymed with wings. 


* 


[17] 


3 



N OW when five little boys live together in one 
house there is a great deal of work to be done 
by somebody. Although the children helped all they 
could, still there were many things which they could 
not do, and so Grandame had to have a servant to 
help her. The servant was a strong, hearty peasant 
woman, who lived with her husband, who was a la¬ 
borer by day, in a little hut on the edge of the vil- 

[ 18 ] 







































THE GODDESS 


lage. Every morning, just as the sun rose, she came 
striding up the hill to the House on the Edge of 
Things. She worked there all day, cooking meals, 
mending torn clothes and sweeping the floors. 

But at first she never would talk to the children. 
She was always too busy with her work. She only 
noticed them to cry to them to get out of the kitchen 
or to keep their hands out of the cooky jar. Be¬ 
sides being very cross, she was not very pleasant to 
look at. Her face was as brown as a tree trunk and 
her great hands were red and chapped. Moreover, 
she drew her hair back skin tight and fastened it in a 
hard knot with three wooden hairpins. 

Now because the servant was so cross and so ugly, 
the children delighted to tease her. One morning 
when they were all having breakfast, Peter cried, 
“Hurry up with that mush, Mrs. Old Snail!” 

Kenelm laughed. “She is a snail,” he said, “for 
see how her hair in the back twists around and looks 
like the tip of a shell!” 

The servant became very angry at that, and 
slammed Peter’s bowl of mush down before him so 
hard that it almost broke. “Take care with the 
dishes,” warned Kenelm, still laughing very much. 
“They’re ours and you’ll have to pay for any you 
break!” 

The servant answered never a word but stamped 
back to the fireplace and began banging the pans 
about. The children laughed. They thought it 

[ 19 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


great fun to be able to order someone around, even 
such a great, stupid servant as theirs. 

That afternoon when they were playing hide-and- 
go-seek in the forest, the servant came out of the 
house with a bundle slung over her shoulders and 
walked away among the trees. Kenelm and Peter 
had chosen the same hiding place, a little hollow be¬ 
tween two rocks. When they caught sight of the 
servant Peter whispered, “She has blankets in that 
bundle. She is going to wash them in the stream.” 

“Let’s follow her and frighten her by making her 
think we are goblins,” suggested Kenelm. 

Peter was delighted with the idea. “But how shall 
we make her think we are goblins?” he questioned. 

There was a bush growing near the children loaded 
down with dark blue berries. 

“We’ll smear our faces with berry juice,” said 
Kenelm. “It will make us all purplish. Then when 
she is washing the clothes we’ll jump out of the shad¬ 
ows at her and scream.” 

Gleefully they gathered their hands full of berries 
and crushed them, rubbing the juice all over their 
faces. It made them look like goblins indeed. They 
chuckled when they thought how frightened the poor 
servant would be. 

Then they started off towards the stream. It ran 
through one of the wildest parts of the forest and 
the children had to make their way through under¬ 
brush and over rocks. The farther in they went, the 

[ 20 ] 


THE GODDESS 


closer the trees crowded together. Although it 
was only the middle of the afternoon, under those 
trees it was like twilight. The underbrush often 
grew higher than the boys’ shoulders, and often they 
got all tangled up in it and had to stop to help each 
other out. 

But all that did not trouble them very much, for 
they kept chuckling and chuckling, while they 
thought how very frightened the servant would be 
when they jmnped at her out of that twilight squeak¬ 
ing like goblins. She would scream, they thought, 
and turn around, and when her eyes lighted on their 
purple faces, she would drop the clothes into the 
stream and run away screaming and screaming at 
the top of her lungs. 

But suddenly Peter broke off in the very middle 
of a chuckle, and Kenelm, who was behind him, heard 
him swallow his breath. He stopped and Kenelm 
stopped. “What was that?” whispered Peter. 

“What? Where? I don’t see anything.” 

“It was a tiny little man. His face was pur¬ 
ple like ours, and he was wearing a little hairy suit. 
He was staring at us from under those bushes just 
ahead. 'When he saw me looking at him he jumped 
out and ran into the shadow and hid. Let’s go back. 
Oh, Kenelm, let’s go back!” 

Kenelm turned and looked fearfully behind him. 
The bushes through which the children had fought 
their way had drawn together again. The sky could 

[ 21 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


not be seen at all because the branches overhead grew 
too thickly. But just ahead gleamed one ray of sun¬ 
light. They dared not go back and so they went 
forward, but this time side by side and holding 
hands. 

In a minute they broke suddenly out of the under¬ 
brush and stood in a clearer place. Here the ground 
was smooth as glass. It was slippery with pine 
needles. They were in a little pine grove. Not very 
far ahead of them stood the goblin. His eyes were 
blinking and blinking at them. Although neither of 
the children had ever seen a goblin before they knew 
that this was one. They knew it by his long pointed 
feet, and by the sharpness of his eyes, and by his 
hairy suit. He stood still as a statue, blinking at 
them, and then he suddenly ran away again into the 
shadows that now were growing deeper in the forest. 

The children hurried on, hand in hand. Here on 
the smooth needles they could run, and perhaps never 
children ran as they did then. They fairly flew 
along. But all the way they saw sharp little eyes 
peering at them from shadows, and Peter heard 
something that sounded like little pointed feet flop¬ 
ping along and just keeping pace with them. 
Kenelm heard the sound too but all the time he 
thought it was his own heart beating. 

At last they did hear something surely, and it 
brought joy to their hearts. It was the sound of 
water flowing. When they were quite sure that it 

[ 22 ] 


THE GODDESS 


was the stream they stopped and whispered together. 

“Now that we’re here we might as well frighten her 
just the same,” said Peter. “And then we’ll make 
her take us home. She is so big she’ll keep the gob¬ 
lins away and besides make a path through the under¬ 
brush.” 

So they stole quietly from pine tree to pine tree, 
and at last they came where they could see the stream. 
At first, they thought it was not the stream at all but 
a golden road, for it was so bright it almost blinded 
their eyes. The late afternoon sun was shining full 
upon it. They looked for the servant but they could 
not see her. Jus*t then they heard a splash,—splash. 
It came from the other side of a large rock on the 
edge of the stream. The servant must be behind 
that rock, and the splash—splash be made by the 
clothes, as she soused them up and down in the water. 

They stole up to the rock. 

“Climb up,” whispered Peter, “and peep over and 
see if it is really our servant.” 

Yes, it was the servant and she was sousing the 
clothes up and down in the stream. That was all 
as he had expected but everything else was strange. 
Kenelm could hardly believe his eyes. She had taken 
the huge wooden hairpins out of her hair and now 
it fell down her back. It reached almost to the 
ground in long, strong waves. It was as bright and 
golden as the stream. Some ends of it fell into the 
water as she bent down and when she pushed them 

[ 23 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


back out of her way, they were dripping with gqld. 

Presently she turned around and began making the 
clothes which she had washed into a bundle. Never 
had the servant looked so large. The muscles stood 
out on her brown arms as she tied the knots. 
Kenelm saw for the first time that those great arms 
were magnificent. Her face was no longer cross, for 
she was humming a little song to herself. It 
seemed as though the song came from away down 
within her great breast. It was like the deep voice 
of the ocean. Kenelm came near falling from the 
rock, but ended by sliding down. 

“She is there,” he whispered to Peter, “and she is 
our servant, and yet she isn’t like our servant. Climb 
up and see if I am dreaming!” 

Peter scrambled up. He fell down. “She is a 
goddess and not our servant at all. Why didn’t you 
tell me there were goddesses in the forest?” 

“No, she isn’t a goddess,” said Kenelm, “for didn’t 
you see the three wooden hairpins on the ground! 
And her arms! Nobody but our servant could have 
such fine, large arms!” With one accord the two 
boys climbed up the rock again, this time together. 
The servant was just tying the last knot in the 
bundle. She picked up her three wooden hairpins, 
and gathered all her shining hair in her hands, screwed 
it back into the hard knot which the boys knew. 
Then she swung the bundle of dripping clothes over 
her shoulders and started for home. The children 

[ 24 ] 




THE GODDESS 


slid down the side of the rock which she had just 
left and stood there, hardly knowing what to do. 
Peter was whispering over and over, “She’s a god¬ 
dess! Our servant is a goddess!” 

Ivenelm said nothing; his awe and wonder were too 
great. 

Soon Peter cried: “Hurry, or she’ll be out of 
sight!” 

So they ran around the rock, and followed the 
servant home through the forest. They were not 
afraid now, although it was nearly dark under the 
trees, because the servant looked so strong and well 
able to protect them, as she hurried along with enor¬ 
mous strides. 

When they came to the pine grove, there was the 
goblin running around on the slippery pine needles, 
every little while taking great leaps into the air. 
When he caught sight of the servant he stopped and 
stood blinking at her as he had at the boys. But she 
paid no more attention to him than as though he were 
a squirrel. 

As they pierced into the underbrush again there 
was whispering and rustling, -and then came a sound 
of little feet flopping along beside them. But the 
children did not take their eyes from the broad back 
of the servant. She, of course, never dreamed they 
were there at all, and so they reached home. 

Kenelm and Peter went into the house at her heels, 
and after washing the purple stain from their faces, 

[ 25 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


sat down in a corner of the kitchen watching the serv¬ 
ant as she moved about preparing the supper. She 
was as silent as always. But never again would those 
children look at her with the same eyes as before. In 
every movement they saw the goddess, and they 
stared at the hard knot of her hair with wonder. 

By the time supper was on the table, the other 
boys had come rushing in. They were glad when 
they saw Peter and Kenelm and pretended that they 
thought the witches or goblins had caught them and 
carried them off. 

—After supper Grandame opened a story book and 
the children drew about her on the low step outside 
the door. There was light enough yet in the west 
to read by. 

“There is a picture with this story,” said Gran¬ 
dame, and the boys jumped up from their places and 
pressed about her, all trying to see it at the same time. 

Only Kenelm was not interested. He was watch¬ 
ing the servant through the door as she put the last 
dishes away, washed her hands, hung up her apron 
and put on her shawl. Then she came out, and say¬ 
ing goodnight to them all in a rough voice, went away 
down the hill. 

Kenelm ran down the hill after her. Peter was 
the only one who saw him go—the others were so in¬ 
terested in the picture—and he jumped down from 
the step and ran down the hill too. Soon he over¬ 
took Kenelm, who explained, “I want to peep into 

[ 26 ] 


THE GODDESS 


the house of our servant, for, the house of a goddess 
must be a strange and wonderful place!” 

So they followed the servant down the hill to her 
little hut on the edge of the village. It was quite 
dark by the time they reached it. The servant went 
quickly in and closed the door after her. The chil¬ 
dren ran around the house, and standing on their 
toes, peeped in at the one little window. There was 
only one room in the hut. There was nothing there 
but a bed made of straw on the floor and a rough 
table with two chairs drawn up to it. In the corner 
there was a stone fire place with a hearth, clean-swept. 

The servant straightway set about getting supper 
for her husband, who had not yet come home from his 
work. But first she let down her hair again. It was 
as golden in candlelight as it had been in sun¬ 
light. She was a goddess again as she strode about 
the tiny room. Presently her husband came up from 
the town. He did not see the children looking in at 
his window, although he passed so close to them that 
their hearts almost stopped beating. He was a big 
working man in dirty working clothes. But when 
he had kissed his wife and taken off his dirty coat, 
he, too, suddenly looked quite different. He became 
a great powerful shining giant. All! He was a fit 
mate for the goddess! 

Then those two sat down to supper. That was a 
wonderful sight! The goddess’ hair touched the 
floor on either side, and it dripped gold in the candle- 

[27] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


light. Then a strange thing happened. When those 
two began to break their bread, the children, a-tip-toe 
at the window, heard the finest music in the world. 
It came from the walls of the little hut and it grew 
louder and louder until it sounded like men march¬ 
ing. The goddess and the shining giant lifted their 
heads and looked at each other smiling as though it 
were no new sound to them. Then they fell to and 
ate heartily. 

Kenelm and Peter ran home. It was pitch dark, 
and Grandame was standing in the doorway with a 
lighted candle in her hand and a frightened look on 
her face. When Kenelm and Peter suddenly came 
out of the darkness before her, she seized them both 
and cried, “You wicked children! To run away and 
give me such a fright! I shall punish you!” She 
then boxed their ears, but not hard, and said, “After 
all, you are good children!” 

The other children were all sound asleep on their 
oaken chests. Kenelm and Peter had to un¬ 
dress very quietly in the dark so as not to waken 
them. 

As for Kenelm, he did not want to go to sleep that 
night at all for fear he might not wake up in time 
to see the goddess come striding up the hill with the 
sun behind her in the morning. It was wonderful 
to think that a goddess was cooking their meals, 
mending their clothes and sweeping their floors. But 
even so at last he had to fall asleep! 

[ 28 ] 


THE GODDESS 


When the Wind ran over the grass. 

Once I looked hard 
And saw things pass. 

It was a whole crowd of the little folk, 

But they fled away 

When I pointed and spoke. 

(From Kenelm’s verses.) 


[29] 



Tke Gob-Li ns 


&, j> t e rv ry 



O NE time, right in the 
middle of the night, 
there came up a great 
storm. The steady pound¬ 
ing of the rain on the roof 
awoke little Christopher 
and he sat up on his oak¬ 
en chest to listen. Down 
came the rain in a steady pour. It sounded like 
thunder sometimes and sometimes like the thud of 
many horses’ hoofs over the roof and over the ground. 
All the other children slept soundly. Only Christo¬ 
pher was awake. 

Slowly the storm grew less and less noisy, until at 

[ 30 ] 














THE RAIN GOBLINS 


last it was just an ordinary rain. But Christopher 
still sat straight up on his little oaken chest, because 
now he was hearing new and strange sounds. Splash, 
splash, went something under the windows, and then 
came a noise like many little feet running round and 
round the house, and then more splash-splashes. 

Christopher jumped to the floor, and ran to one of 
the windows. The moon was trying to come out 
after the hard shower, but she was not succeeding 
very well. Yet there was light enough for Christo¬ 
pher to see a little. 

Round and round the house, under the windows, 
were running little brown, long-footed people. They 
were the Rain Goblins, but Christopher did not know 
that until afterwards. They were playing a wild 
game of tag,—and so they went chasing one another. 
But every little while they stopped to jump up and 
down in one of the pools of rain water that were 
glistening everywhere in the faint moonlight, and 
their long feet splashed. Sometimes they sprang up 
in the air, and were swept along by the wind and 
rain. They were very little people. Not one of 
them was over eight inches high. 

As Christopher leaned out of the window watch¬ 
ing them, he felt the wind and rain on his face and 
suddenly he, too, wanted to be out in the wet weather. 

He ran back to his chest, and pulling out his clothes 
was dressed in a minute. Then he climbed quietly 
out of the window. The Rain Goblins, running 

[ 31 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


round and round the house, all stopped when they 
came to him. 

“A human child has come to play with us!” they 
cried. 

They seized one another’s hands, and making a 
circle, went splashing and dancing all around 
Christopher. He stayed in the circle and splashed 
and danced too, for he was delighted with the wind 
and the rain. 

Soon the Rain Goblins started running again and 
suddenly a great gust of rainy wind came by and 
swept them all right away into the forest. Christo¬ 
pher was swept with them. 

When the wind died down, they played among the 
tree trunks, and every pool they came to, into it they 
jumped with both feet. 

Then suddenly another wind came roaring through 
the branches. But the Rain Goblins heard it com¬ 
ing this time and cried, “Hold tight! Hold tight! 
Don’t go farther!” 

They clung to the bushes and the rocks, and some 
flung themselves face downward in puddles. The 
great wind passed over and could not sweep them on 
with it. 

They were playing around a giant tree when one 
of the goblins squeaked, “Let’s go up in the branches 
and have a swing!” 

Then they all began knocking on the tree trunk 
with twigs and sticks which they had picked up from 

[ 32 ] 












. 









. 



















. 













































































V 










































t i 


* * 


e only wanted to go up and swing in the branches 





THE RAIN GOBLINS 


t he ground,—and some of them kicked the trunk with 
their feet. Christopher did not understand what it 
was all about. 

Presently a piece of the bark of the tree began to 
swing out slowly, and Christopher saw that it was a 
door. An old man was standing in the doorway. 
His hair was snow white and it whipped about in the 
wind. His beard was as white as his hair and so 
long that it reached to the ground. 

“Who are you, come pounding at my door?” he 
asked in a deep windy voice. 

“We only wanted to go up and swing in the 
branches,” piped a goblin voice. 

“No, no,” said the old man, “you would track 
water and mud all over my stairs.” 

“We’ll wipe our feet,” cried all the goblins to¬ 
gether. “Truly we will.” 

“Well, see that you do then. For if I find one 
speck of dirt after you have gone up I’ll catch you all 
and tie you out on the rocks and leave you there for 
the sun to wither.” 

That was a terrible threat. Rain Goblins cannot 
live in the sunlight. It withers them up in a minute. 
They come out only in the rain and as soon as the 
weather begins to clear they always hide themselves 
in the long grass, under bushes or leaves or beneath 
the rocks. 

So they trembled now when the old Tree Man said 
he would tie them up for the sun to wither. They 

[ 33 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


wiped their feet very, very carefully on the grass. 
Then the Tree Man stood back from the door, and 
they rushed in and went flopping up the stairs that 
ran in a spiral to the very top of the tree. There 
they came out into the branches. 

Christopher was on one of the topmost branches 
and he was a little frightened at first. The wind 
blew very hard, and the gusts of wind sometimes 
came near to sweeping him off. But very soon he 
got used to clinging to the swaying, tossing branch 
with his legs and arms. The goblins were swinging 
high and low in the wind and every now and then one 
of them would whoop and leap to another branch. 

But the littlest goblin of all was braver than the 
others. He made a daring leap and landed on a 
branch of another tree. The others shouted when 
they saw him do that. But alas! Poor thing! He 
dared not jump back again! He sat swinging on his 
branch and looking towards his brothers with a terri¬ 
fied face. 

“Why doesn’t he go down through the tree?” asked 
Christopher. “Hasn’t it a stairway like this one?” 

“Yes, it happens to have,” answered the goblin 
nearest him. “But that tree is the home of a witch 
who is very beautiful but very cruel. If she should 
find our brother in her branches, she would seize him 
and throw him to the ground. No, he will hardly 
dare to ask her to open the door to the stairs.” 

“But what is going to happen to him?” asked 

[ 34 ] 


THE RAIN GOBLINS 


Christopher, for he saw that the poor little goblin 
could never jump back. 

Before anyone could answer the wind died down, 
the rain ceased and a pink light bloomed in the 
eastern sky. It was dawn. 

“The sun! The sun!” cried the Rain Goblins, and 
scrambled back into the tree and rushed down the 
spiral staircase. Only Christopher stayed swinging 
on his branch. The little goblin in the other tree 
could not get down and was screaming and moaning 
pitifully. 

“Wait,” Christopher called across to him, “I will 
save you!” Then he, too, scrambled down into the 
tree and ran down the stairs. He noticed this time 
that the stairs were made of strong bark. He saw 
two or three doors leading from them and thought 
they must be the doors to the rooms where the Tree 
Man lived. But he saw nothing of the Tree Man or 
anyone else. He pushed open the door at the foot of 
the stairs and sprang out. The Rain Goblins had dis¬ 
appeared; but he saw the long foot of one of them 
sticking out from under a low growing bush. 

“He is hiding from the sun,” he thought. “And 
the others are all hiding near-by, only I cannot see 
them.” 

But he had promised to save the poor little goblin, 
shivering at the top of the witch’s tree. The only 
way he could do that was to climb. It was lucky 
that the branches began near the ground, for 

[ 35 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 

Christopher was a very little boy. He managed to 
get to the first branch, however, and then the rest 
was not so hard. 

Up, up, up, up he went. Once he stopped to look 
down and that made him dizzy. He did not look 
down again. The sky was getting pinker and pinker. 
He knew now that he could reach the goblin some¬ 
time, but what bothered him was the fear that he 
might not reach it before the sun did. That, of 
course, would be too late. 

Pinker and pinker and pinker grew the whole sky. 
The goblin above him shrieked and moaned. 
Christopher trembled lest the cruel witch should hear 
the crying and open the door of her tree. Would 
she throw them both down to the ground, he won¬ 
dered? 

Now he was only three branches below the goblin. 
Then he was two, then one! He reached up, and, 
grabbing the terrified little creature, thrust him head 
first into one of his deep pockets right down among 
all the other things he carried there. And at that 
very instant he felt a hot touch on the back of his neck 
under his curls. He looked around, and there was 
the sun. He had hidden the goblin away just in the 
nick of time! 

It was as hard climbing down as it had been climb¬ 
ing up, but he managed it somehow and started for 
home. When he came to the edge of the forest, he 
saw that the grass all about the House on the Edge 

[ 36 ] 


THE RAIN GOBLINS 


of Things was covered with a sparkling veil. As he 
was looking at it in wonder and admiration, a little 
creature with filmy wings and bright hair came run¬ 
ning over the tops of the grass blades. They bent 
under his feet as they bend under a light wind. It 
was a beautiful naked boy. He sped past Christo¬ 
pher and disappeared in the forest. 

Christopher turned to look after him and saw a 
great colored half circle in the sky. Red, orange, 
yellow, green, blue, violet ! It was a rainbow. 

When he reached home Grandame and the others 
were just having breakfast. They were talking about 
little Christopher and wondering where he could be. 
When they saw him standing there in the doorway 
they had questions enough. 

He told them his story and they could hardly be¬ 
lieve their ears. They were horrified. 

“Didn’t you know they were goblins?” cried 
Stephen. “How dared you get out of the window?” 

“Goblins are spirits of the shadow and dark,” said 
Grandame. “You must never have anything to do 
with them again.” 

“But it was all such fun!” protested Christopher. 
“And they didn’t hurt me!” 

“That was because you did not know enough to be 
afraid of them,” said Grandame. 

So little Christopher had to promise never again 
to jump out of a window into a rain storm. 

After he had changed his clothes for some dry ones 

[ 37 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


he sat down to his breakfast. But first, he did not 
forget the poor goblin he was protecting. He 
slipped it into the pocket of his dry suit when the 
others were not looking; for he was afraid that if 
they should catch sight of it they would throw it out 
into the sunshine. 

And often and often in the days that followed 
Christopher would get into the shadow of a tree or 
rock and take the little creature out of his pocket. 
It looked something like a limp, brown piece of 
dough. It was soft and cool and huddled up in such 
a way that Christopher could never see its face. It 
seemed always asleep. 

But one night it commenced to rain. Christopher 
heard the thundering on the roof, and sat upon his 
oaken chest as he had done that other rainy night. 
When the hardest of the rain was over,—yes, there 
came the splashing of little feet and then the 
noise of little feet running round and round the 
house. 

Christopher jumped down to the floor and took 
the little creature he had been carrying about in his 
pocket to the window. There he held it at arm’s 
length out in the wind and wet. 

Suddenly the goblin’s head shot up, its arms and 
legs straightened out and it began to squirm in 
Christopher’s grasp. 

Then Christopher dropped it gently to the ground. 
The other goblins made a ring around it and it 

[ 38 ] 


THE RAIN GOBLINS 


jumped up and down in the middle just as Christo¬ 
pher had done that other time. 

Presently there came a great gust of windy rain 
and all the little creatures were swept away into the 
forest. Christopher sighed. He would have liked 
to have gone with them. 

After that, every rainy night, little Christopher 
would lie and listen to the sound of the Rain Gob¬ 
lins’ feet running round and round the house and 
splashing in all the pools. And he always wished 
that Grandame had not forbidden him to play with 
them. 

“If she would only look at them closely,” he often 
thought, “she would see that they are not cruel and 
wicked at all, but are just funny little creatures with 
long pointed feet.” 

But Grandame never did look at them closely for 
she had been brought up to beware of goblins. 


The smell of rain is lovely 
And the feel of rain is good. 

And once I stayed all morning 
With rain in a wood! 

(From Kenelm’s verses.) 


[39] 



Jat wjn fcTKe BLve Wa.te.R. CkiLdReN 



N OW came summer and the warmest days of the 
year. The House on the Edge of Things was 
always filled with twilight because of the silvery cur¬ 
tains which Grandame had hung at the windows to • 
keep out the burning sun. But the children spent 
most of the day in the forest, taking care to stay well 
within the shadows of the trees. 

One afternoon while they 
were all sitting in a circle on a 
deep mossy mound to cool 
off, Kenelm cried suddenly, 

“Let’s go bathing in the 
stream!” 

“Oh let’s!” agreed the others, 
for it seemed a very good thought indeed. 

[ 40 ] 























































ALWIN AND THE BLUE WATER CHILDREN 

“But,” said Peter, “we had better take the god¬ 
dess,—servant, I mean,—with us. The stream is in 
a dark part of the woods!” 

“No, no,” protested the others. “So many of us 
need be afraid of nothing. And besides, she is mak¬ 
ing bread for our supper. You could never make her 
leave that!” 

So they slid down from the mossy mound and 
started running towards the stream. It was a long 
way there and they grew very hot and thirsty. They 
could hardly wait to get into the cool water. 

Alwin was so very eager that he managed to keep 
always a little ahead of the others, and so he reached 
the stream first. He stood on a rather steep place 
on the bank and right under him the moving water 
grew calm in a still, deep pool. It was so clear that 
he could see the colored pebbles at the bottom. And 
down there, too, was the face of the sky, as in a mir¬ 
ror, and all the white summer clouds floating across it. 

Alwin stripped himself of his clothes as one strips 
the husk from an ear of corn, and just as the other 
children came running up he gave a playful whoop 
and jumped down feet first into the pool. 

Down, down, down, down he went, and the water 
closed over his head. Now neither Alwin nor any 
of the children knew how to swim, and he had not 
stopped to wonder whether the water would be too 
deep for him. But it was too deep, much too deep, 
and he began to kick and scream and splash and call 

[ 41 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


out to the children on the bank to help him. When 
he realized that his playmates could do nothing for 
him, he screamed for Grandame. But Grandame 
was far away sitting in the house carving at her toys, 
and she could not possibly know that one of her chil¬ 
dren was in trouble. So Alwin’s head went under 
the second time and a mouthful of water choked him. 

It was then that he saw the Blue Water Children. 
They came swimming around him and pushed him to 
the surface of the water. Then they began to swim 
down the stream, bearing him with them. 

These children, you must know, are called Blue 
Water Children because instead of having white skin 
like Earth-Children, their skin is a rich blue, and 
their hair and eyes are only a shade deeper. They 
play under the water as Earth-Children play in the 
fields and woods. They are the least shy of all the 
wood creatures, and have no fear at all of being seen 
by humans. Indeed, they will often stand at the bot¬ 
tom of a stream looking up with curious eyes straight 
into the faces of Earth-Children. They are ad¬ 
venturous, too, for sometimes they follow a stream 
right out into the open fields. And once a few years 
ago, I stood on a bridge in a town, looking down into 
the water, and there I saw a Blue Water Child. I 
know of no other wood creature who will venture 
right into the heart of a town! 

Now there were four Blue Water Children hurry¬ 
ing Alwin down the stream. He could hear Kenelm 

[ 42 ] 


ALWIN AND THE BLUE WATER CHILDREN 


and the others running along the bank and calling 
him wildly, but he could not answer. He was being 
drawn along too swiftly for speech. 

Faster and faster they went,—and then even faster, 
until they swirled down into another pool. And 
there the Blue Water Children pulled Alwin right 
down under the water. He kicked and screamed, 
but down he went. He heard a pounding in his ears, 
and opening his eyes as best he could under water, 
he saw that one of the Blue Water Children was 
knocking at a door in a rock down there in the water. 
It opened suddenly, and Alwin was pushed in. He 
heard the water rushing behind him, and then the 
door closed and at last he opened his eyes wide. 

He was in a little house under the water. For a 
minute he thought that the woman who had opened 
the door and now stood courtesying to him was Gran- 
dame. Even after he had looked more steadily he 
still found it hard not to think so. The only differ¬ 
ence there seemed to be was that this woman was very 
young, and of course her skin and hair were blue. 
Whenever she moved it seemed that she was run¬ 
ning, so quick and light were her motions. Indeed 
she flashed from one part of the little house to an¬ 
other much as Alwin had often seen reflected light 
flash along a wall. 

She, like the Blue Water Children, was far from 
shy, and was neither surprised nor startled to 
see an Earth-Child in her house. 

[ 43 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 

“You are just in time for supper/’ was what she 
said. 

“We’ll have to make the table larger first,” said 
one of the Blue Water Children. He took a sharp 
little stone and with it scratched out one end of an 
oblong figure that was drawn on the floor. Then he 
lengthened its sides. 

The other children ran to and fro bringing shells 
from a cupboard in the wall and setting them down 
inside the lines scratched on the floor. The largest 
shell of all was placed in the very center after Blue 
Water Grandame had filled it with locust blos¬ 
soms. 

“These fell into the stream to-day,” she said, “and 
it is good that they did. We’re all getting tired of 
green leaves three times a day!” 

“Um, um!” said the Blue Water Children looking 
with delight at the great shell of flowers. Perhaps it 
was not a very polite way of saying it, but “Um um” 
meant that the locust blossoms made them very 
hungry. 

“Now all is ready,” said Blue Water Grandame, 
and everyone dropped down on the floor and sat 
cross-legged around the queer table. When Alwin 
saw them slide so easily into their places, he could 
not help remembering the little waterfalls in the 
stream. “They get down just like little waterfalls,” 
he thought. 

“But where is the supper?” he asked, for there 

[ 44 ] 


ALWIN AND THE BLUE WATER CHILDREN 


was no food to be seen and he found himself very 
hungry. 

“Why, the blossoms, of course,” cried the Blue 
Water Children. “And a very fine meal it is!” 

Then to Alwin’s surprise, the large shell of blos¬ 
soms was lifted and passed first to Blue Water Gran- 
dame. She helped herself to a double handful and 
dropped them into her little shell plate. Then they 
were passed around the table, and Alwin, when they 
came to him, took some too, for he did not know what 
else to do. When all were served Blue Water 
Grandame lifted her shell of blossoms to her nose, 
and all the Blue Water Children did the same. 
They breathed deeply and put down the shells. 

“Oh, that was good!” they said to one another. 
Then they buried their noses in the flowers again. 

Blue Water Grandame noticed that Alwin was 
just sitting and wondering. “What is the matter, 
Earth-Child?” she asked. “You are smelling noth¬ 
ing. Don’t you like locust blossoms?” 

“Oh yes,” said Alwin, not wanting to be a bad 
guest. He lifted his shell then to his nose and 
breathed the sweetness of the flowers with a long 
breath. Oh, how good it was! And he wanted 
more and more. And then suddenly he was no 
longer hungry. 

Then Blue Water Grandame pushed back her 
shell and flashed to her feet. The Blue Water Chil¬ 
dren, too, rose to their feet—(“like fountains now!” 

[ 45 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


thought Alwin)—and there was running to and fro to 
clear the table. 

Alwin did not help them because he did not know 
what to do with the things. Instead he wandered to 
a window and stood looking out. All that he could 
see was dark flowing water. It flowed past the win¬ 
dows of the House under Water just as the wind 
blew past the windows of the House on the Edge 
of Things. A little Blue Water Boy came and 
looked out with him. 

“Did you like the supper?” he asked. 

“It was good—but queer,” said Alwin. “Where 
did you ever get such strange dishes?” 

“Oh, they are sea shells.” 

“Sea shells? What are they?” 

Blue Water Grandame and the other Blue Water 
Children, when they heard this question, drew about 
Alwin and they were all eager to tell him of the sea. 
They sat down there on the floor by the window with 
Alwin in the center and talked of strange things. 
They told of the long journey of the stream. It 
flowed on and on for days and nights, they said, until 
it became a big river. 

But Alwin did not know what a river was and so 
they had to tell him. “A river is a grown up stream.” 

YV ell, then the grown up stream went on and on for 
days and nights until at last it came to the sea. The 
sea was a great sparkling blue water which was too 
large to flow about. It must always stay in one 

[ 46 ] 


ALWIN AND THE BLUE WATER CHILDREN 

place. But it galloped back and forth in that place 
like a strong wild animal in a cage. It was very, 
very deep. Yes, much deeper than the very high¬ 
est house is high or the very tallest tree is tall. 
Neither grass nor flowers grew on its banks. No, its 
banks were low and smooth and white, and made of 
nothing in the world but sand. It was in this sand 
that the Blue Water Children found the sea shells. 

“But have you been there yourselves?"’ cried Al- 
win. 

Oh, yes, many times. It was such a pleasant 
journey, and what sport they always had on the way! 

“Are there people by the sea?” 

Oh, many people were there. They went out on 
the sea in ships. 

“What are ships?” 

Ships were wooded houses with great white wings, 
but they carried you from place to place like horses. 

“How wonderful to travel across the sea!” 

Ah, yes, but it was very far! 

“But I shall go,” cried Alwin. “I shall go and 
I shall swim across to the other side and live there in 
a new country.” 

It was too wide to swim across, and besides, it was 
full of great fish and things that swallow you! 

Alwin shivered. “Then I shall get into a ship and 
fly across.” 

“Yes, an Earth-Child can do anything, once he 
sets his mind on it,” said Blue Water Grandame, and 

[ 47 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


as she spoke Alwin saw a shadow fall across her face, 
and all the Blue Water Children grew curiously still 
and looked at him wistfully. But the shadow passed, 
and straightway everyone was bright again. 

It grew darker and darker in the House under 
Water. It became quite dark, and still they stayed, 
talking eagerly about the sea and other far-away 
things. Then suddenly all their faces shone out, and 
the whole room was flooded with silvery light. Al¬ 
win flattened his nose against the pane to see where 
the light came from. He looked down, and there, 
deep, deep under them, close to the bottom of the 
stream, hung the moon, full and round and clear. 
The Blue Water Children flattened their noses be¬ 
side Alwin’s, and said “Oh!” and “Ah!” and “What 
a fine night!” 

“How queer to be looking down at the moon,” 
cried Alwin. 

“Not at all,” said the Blue Water Children. 
“Where else would one look for it?” 

“What is that?” suddenly whispered one of the 
children. 

Alwin had heard the new sound too. “Why, that is 
Grandame and the others calling me,” he cried, 
jumping up. “I must go back now. Hark! Lit¬ 
tle Christopher is crying!” 

“You cannot go back now,” said Blue Water 
Grandame quietly. “You have been too long under 
water.” 


[48] 


ALWIN AND THE BLUE WATER CHILDREN 

“No, no, you don’t want to go back,” urged the 
others. “Stay and play with us!” 

Then they all hushed and listened for the sounds 
again. 

“What is that queer little sound that keeps on even 
when the others stop ?” asked Blue Water Grandame. 

“I told you,” said Alwin. “That is little Christo¬ 
pher crying. Oh, please, good water people, where 
is the door? I must go home.” 

“Ah, that is a dreadful little sound,” whispered 
Blue Water Grandame, shivering. “We cannot 
have that. Here is the door!” 

But Alwin could never have gone out of that door 
alone. The water was rushing by it too strongly. 
Blue Water Grandame and the Blue Water Chil¬ 
dren bore him out and up through the stream. Ugh! 
but it was cold! 

There on the bank stood Grandame calling to him, 
and there ran the others up and down and calling too. 
And little Christopher was running with them cry¬ 
ing. 

When Alwin scrambled up the bank all cold and 
wet they leapt at him and each one must run his 
hand over him to make sure that he was real. Little 
Christopher hugged him and hugged him. They 
dried him with Grandame’s shawl. 

Home through the forest they went by moonlight. 
Alwin was too sleepy to tell that night of all that had 
happened to him. He only said over and over again, 

[ 49 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


“When I am grown to be a man I am going to fly 
across the sea in a ship with sails, and live there in a 
new country.” 

The others looked at him with awe. “Are you?” 
they asked. That was one of the best things about 
the House on the Edge of Things,—one’s word was 
never doubted there. 

“Yes, when I am grown,” and so saying, Alwin 
curled himself into a ball under his light, bright 
blanket, and straightway fell asleep. 


I love roads. I wonder where they go. 

Sometime, when I am grown, I’ll go on one 
And travel to the end. Perhaps the end will be 
The wide blue sea. 

“All roads lead to one place,” Grandame once said. 

But when we asked, “What is that place?” she shook her head. 
She would not tell. And that is just as well; 

For I do not wish to know,—but learn myself where 
The beautiful roads go. 

(From Kenelm’s verses.) 




C ka.pteR. XI IB 

- r v — ^ 


■StepKew «» 



Fx lendly Finny %> 


‘HEN the children went to 
town, Stephen often saw 
something that the others never 
could see no matter how much he 
pointed, or how quickly he cried, 
“Look! Look!” 

He saw a young girl, in a violet-colored frock, 
with bare brown feet and streaming brown hair, who 
ran before them in the streets and dodged in and out 
among the people. Stephen often wondered who she 

[ 51 ] 

















THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 

was and why she ran about barefooted and with her 
hair unbound. But no one else seemed to wonder 
at her, and at last Stephen came to believe that he was 
the only one who could see her. 

One afternoon he went alone into the town to buy 
some candy. A young woman named Myra kept the 
candy shop. When Stephen reached it she was sit¬ 
ting on the step, for it was a very warm day. She 
was sitting with her chin in her hands looking away off 
up the street,—and even farther. She did not see 
Stephen when he stopped in front of her, and so he 
put out his hand and touched her shyly on the shoul¬ 
der. She jumped, and when she saw that it was a 
child that had startled her, sprang up angrily, and 
seizing him roughly by the arm, shook him and pushed 
him roughly back into the street. 

‘‘What do I want with you?” she cried. “A 
stranger’s child!” 

Stephen was very much frightened because he did 
not understand. The shamed tears sprang to his 
eyes. But just as he was about to run away, the 
young girl in the violet frock suddenly stood before 
him. 

“Don’t mind Myra,” she said. “Her little boy 
died this summer. She is unhappy.” 

Then it was that Stephen remembered that Myra 
usually sat with a baby in her lap. That must have 
been the little boy that died. Stephen was suddenly 
very sorry for the poor young mother. 

[ 52 ] 



STEPHEN AND FRIENDLY FAIRY 

When Myra saw who it was standing in the street 
and talking to Stephen, she sighed, “Good morning. 
Friendly Fairy. You haven’t paid me a visit for a 
long time now.” 

“Oh,” said the young girl,—for she it was who was 
Friendly Fairy, “I have been to your door often 
enough, but you never ask me to come in any more.” 

“That is true. I have asked no one to stop with 
me since my little Nicholas died. I like to be alone.” 

Stephen was so sorry for Myra that he wanted to 
make her a gift. He felt in all his pockets, but all he 
could find was a little wooden man which Grandame 
had made for him, a whistle, a piece of gingerbread, 
and a white pebble. He took them all at once and 
laid them in Myra’s lap. 

“Oh, the sticky stuff!” she cried, and would have 
thrown them all down into the street, but Friendlv 
Fairy held her hands. 

“They are gifts,” whispered Friendly Fairy. 

Then Stephen ran away, for he was very shy. 

But Friendly Fairy stayed and made a visit. 
When it was nearly dusk she, too, suddenly ran away. 
Then Myra rose and went into the shop. She laid 
Stephen’s gifts all in a row on a shelf over the coun¬ 
ter. 

Then she looked about the room. It was very 
dingy and dusty and things were lying about all un¬ 
tidily, for of late Myra had had the heart to do very 
little work. She sighed now and thought that the 

[ 53 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


time had come when she must do some cleaning up. 

But just at that minute, the little wooden man, the 
whistle, the piece of gingerbread and the white pebble 
jumped down from the counter and from there to 
the floor. Myra screamed and backed into a corner 
where she stood staring. She thought she must be 
dreaming. 

The little man found a cloth and whisked about 
dusting the furniture and the counter. The whistle 
and the piece of gingerbread helped each other in 
lifting things and putting them where they belonged. 
A big book had fallen to the floor and that was too 
heavy for them, so Myra came forward and helped 
with it. As for the white pebble, she brought water 
from the well and washed the windows and the floor. 

When all was in order and shining and the little 
shop really looked like itself again, the little man, 
the whistle, the piece of gingerbread, and the white 
pebble, everyone gave a big leap and landed back on 
the shelf and stood there in a row just as Myra had 
first placed them,—only now they all stood smiling. 

“Thank you,” said Myra, and made them a 
curtsey. 

After she had eaten her supper, she went out again 
and sat down on the step with her chin in her hands. 
Friendly Fairy came running straight to her out of 
the shadows. 

“My shop is in shape again,” said Myra, “and 
tomorrow I hope there will be some customers.” 

[ 54 ] 


STEPHEN AND FRIENDLY FAIRY 

“There will be,—since you have prepared for them. 
But that is tomorrow. Tonight let’s play with the 
moonbeams,” laughed Friendly Fairy. 

Then those two began catching the moonbeams as 
they fell on the step and weaving them into chains 
which they threw about each other’s necks and 
braided in each other’s hair and laughed quietly. 

“This is like old times,” said Friendly Fairy. 

“Yes, isn’t it?” nodded Myra, while the tears she 
had been holding back so long fell from her eyes. 

Friendly Fairy caught the tears as they fell and 
strung them on the last moonbeam chain she had 
woven. The tears were brighter than the moon¬ 
beams. They sparkled on the chain like diamonds. 
Friendly Fairy flung that wonderful chain about her 
own neck and suddenly ran away on silent feet. 

A bird flew down on sparkling wing; 

We hushed ourselves to hear him sing. 

Because we harked he flew awayy-^ 

He only sings when we will play. 

(From Kenelm’s verses.) 


[55] 



A T last it came 
autumn, and 
one morning 
Grandame and the children 
woke to find the ground cov¬ 
ered with snow. It was 
drifting down in large, slow 
flakes. The children were 
almost wild with joy. They ran out of doors and be¬ 
gan pelting one another with snowballs, and Gran¬ 
dame had all that she could do to get them back into 
the house for breakfast. But by noon the wind be¬ 
gan to blow and it became very cold. Still it snowed; 
only now the flakes were fine and sharp. They hissed 
about the children’s ears and cut their faces. 

After dinner Kenelm put on his heaviest coat and 
pulling his cap well down over his ears started out for 

[ 56 ] 













THE FIRST SNOW STORM 


the town. He was going to buy a block of paper to 
write his verses down on; for Grandame had told 
him that he really ought to write them down for the 
Queen, instead of just keeping them in his head .as 
he had been doing. It grew colder and colder as he 
walked, and he could hardly see through the whirling 
snow. 

Arrived in town, he noticed a great stir there. 
People were running wildly about, shouting to one 
another, and many of the women in the street had 
tears on their faces. 

“What is all the fuss about?” Kenelm asked the 
old shopkeeper who sold him his block of paper. 

“What’s all the fuss! Is there a soul in the world 
who doesn’t know what has happened to-day? Why 
the little Princess is lost, of course!” 

“Where is she lost?” asked Kenelm, hardly be¬ 
lieving his ears. 

“Where indeed? If I knew that, my child, I’d be 
a made man before the night. But she must be some¬ 
where in the forest, for she was riding her pony alone, 
you know, and she had promised her mother she 
would ride only to the edge of the forest and straight 
home again. But she did not come back, and there 
was the pony without her! If she is not frozen al¬ 
ready she soon will be, for this is a terrible blizzard!” 

But Kenelm had not heard the last words. He 
was running home as fast as his legs would take him. 
It was all the way uphill and against the driving 

[ 57 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


snow, but he did not slacken speed for that. And 
just so fast as his legs were running, just so fast was 
his mind thinking about the little Princess. She was 
somewhere alone in the forest in that cold snow storm! 
What might not happen to her! 

He arrived out of breath. The children were all 
in the house gathered about the fire, and wonder of 
wonders the servant had forgotten her work and 
was telling them a story. 

“And so the Princess was locked up in a high, 
white tower, 5 ’ she was saying, when Kenelm burst 
into the kitchen. 

“Grandame, Grandame!” he cried. 

Grandame dropped her work and came running 
from her room. 

“The little Princess is lost in the forest, and I am 
going to hunt for her ! 55 

They were all frightened. “Oh, Kenelm, don’t go 
into the forest in this storm,” they begged. “Wait 
until it is clear and then there will be some chance of 
finding her.” 

“What can a little boy like you do?” asked the 
servant sharply, because she loved Kenelm though it 
hurt her to show it. “Don’t you suppose every 
grown man at the Castle is out looking for her!” 

But Peter said, “I will go with you. Come on.” 

“No, I am going alone. I shall find her quicker 
that way. Only do see, Peter, that the fire is kept 
burning brightly. She will be so cold!” 

[ 58 ] 


THE FIRST SNOW STORM 


Grandame pulled Kenelm’s cap down farther over 
his ears, and buttoned the top button of his coat. 
She alone had not said a word about his going or 
not going. But now she opened the door. 

“I’ll not rest till I see you safe again. So find her 
quickly,” she whispered. But Kenelm’s answer was 
lost in the wind that blew the door shut behind him 
with a loud bang. 

He ran into the forest. There he stopped. It 
was an endless place, that big white-sheeted forest, 
and how was he, a little boy, to find a little thing like 
the Princess in it! 

There was a crackling in the bushes and a soldier 
on a horse plunged out from among the trees. He 
drew rein when he saw Kenelm. 

“Climb up, boy, and I’ll see you safe home,” he 
called down kindly. 

“Thank you no, for I’m here to look for the little 
Princess who is lost.” 

The soldier laughed grimly. “We’re all looking 
for her, but there is no hope of finding her. The 
snow has covered up all her tracks.” 

“I’ll have my try, too, for all of that,” said Kenelm. 

“No you won’t. You’ll come with me. One lost 
is enough for to-day,” and the soldier made a grab 
for Kenelm. But Kenelm, bless him, was too quick 
for him! He dashed under his great outstretched 
arm and dove into the underbrush. The soldier 
swung his horse about to give chase, but Kenelm was 

[ 59 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


already out of sight. Crossly and sadly, too, the sol¬ 
dier spurred his horse out of the forest. 

When the soldier was gone Kenelm crept from his 
hiding place. At that minute a bright spark blew 
past him with the snow. It was a red leaf. Kenelm 
remembered then the Stranger-Woman. “If that is 
who it is,” he thought, “then perhaps she’ll help me 
find the Princess.” So he ran after the leaf calling 
and calling. 

But it only blew on before him, and though he ran 
and ran he did not catch it. Instead he stumbled 
over dead branches hidden under the snow and fell 
into hollows; but he never let himself lose sight of the 
red leaf for a minute. His legs began to tremble at 
last, and he could hardly breathe because the sharp 
air cut all the way down his throat. He fell to his 
knees, but the leaf blew on; so he forced himself up 
again and followed. 

The farther into the forest he ran, the barer the 
ground became. The trees grew so close together 
there that their branches caught most of the snow 
and held it. The snow-laden branches looked like a 
great white roof stretching away and away. 

At last Kenelm could run no farther and stopped, 
leaning against a tree. And at that minute he lost 
sight of the red leaf and, indeed, forgot all about it, 
for there was the little Princess coming towards him. 
She was walking very, verv slowly, and her head 

[ 60 ] 


THE FIRST SNOW STORM 


was hanging down so that Kenelm could not see her 
face. But he knew her by her bright curls. He 
sprang to meet her. 

The tears were frozen in little drops on her long 
eyelashes and on her cheeks. She was pale with the 
cold. Kenelm tore off his coat and threw it around 
her. She seemed not at all surprised that he was 
there and ready to help her. She only said, “Where 
is the way home? I have lost it.” 

“I’ll take you first to the House on the Edge of 
Things, and then get them to come to carry you to 
the Castle,” said Kenelm. The little Princess gave 
him her hand. 

He had no fear of losing his way for he knew the 
forest well. But it was a long walk to the edge of it. 
The little Princess was as tired as she was cold, and 
the steps she took were very little and slow ones. 
Often she had to stop and lean against a tree, and 
then it would seem that she could go no farther. 
But the cold would drive her on. 

As they went, she told Kenelm how she had come 
to be lost. A band of tall white Snow Witches 
had come swooping and swirling out of the forest, 
as she rode along its edge, had pulled her from her 
pony and dragged her away with them. Often they 
had let her go for a minute, and then she had always 
started to run home. But they would always catch 
her and drag her on. 


[61] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


They had carried her deeper and deeper into the 
forest until they came to the place where the trees 
grew so close together that their branches caught all 
the snow and held it up like a roof. The White 
Witches danced around and around on the edge of 
that place and shrieked angrily. They tried to lift 
the little Princess up and fly with her over the snow 
roof,—for, for some reason they dared not put their 
feet to the bare ground under the trees. But she 
was too heavy to be lifted so high. So at last they 
gave it up, left her alone there, and went on their 
way. She watched them sweeping away over the 
great white roof of the forest. 

There was scarcely any breath left in her fright¬ 
ened little body when they were gone. So she lay 
there in the snow just where they had dropped her 
until the cold crept in through her clothes. Then 
she began running about, trying to decide which 
was the way home. At last she wandered back to 
the edge of the white roof and went in under it, for 
she was protected from the wind there and had given 
up hope of finding her way alone out of the forest. 

Then at last Kenelm had come running toward 
her—and that was all. 

While the little Princess was telling her story the 
children had been coming nearer and nearer to the 
edge of the forest. But soon the little Princess let 
go of Kenelm’s hand and he saw that she could go no 
farther. He picked her up in his arms, but she was 

[ 62 ] 


THE FIRST SNOW STORM 

almost as large as he was and he could only stagger 
along for a little way and put her down again. 

Then it was that he saw ahead of them the giant 
tree that was the Tree Man’s house. Christopher had 
often pointed it out to him. 

“Perhaps the Tree Man will give us shelter,” he 
thought. So he picked the little Princess up again 
and staggered to the tree. He kicked the trunk with 
his toes and called for the Tree Man just as 
Christopher had told him the goblins had done. 
And yes, the door in the bark swung open, and there 
he stood. He was exactly as Christopher had de¬ 
scribed him. Kenelm was a little frightened be¬ 
cause he looked so very wise, and his white beard was 
so very long. 

The Tree Man was surprised enough to see 
Kenelm and his burden, as you may imagine. 
“Come in, Earth-Children,” he said quickly. “Or 
we who are inside will be as frozen as you.” 

Kenelm stepped in with the little Princess in his 
arms. The Tree Man closed the door and led the 
way up two or three steps and there opened another 
door. Kenelm struggled after him, and there he was 
in a cozy room. By a little table in the middle of the 
room a young girl sat sewing. She seemed very shy, 
for she hardly lifted her head to look at the visi¬ 
tors. 

“Daughter,” said the Tree Man, “these little 
humans are nearly frozen.” 

[ 63 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


Then the girl rose quickly, put her sewing on the 
table and drew two stools up to the fire. 

‘‘Warm yourselves,” she said in the gentlest and 
shyest of voices. 

The little Princess slid out of Kenelm’s arms. 
But she did not sit on a stool. She dropped to the 
floor and crept as close to the fire as she could, stretch¬ 
ing her hands out over the warm blaze, and almost 
letting her bright curls hang into it. Kenelm 
knelt beside her and held his hands to the blaze, 
too. 

The shy Tree Girl went back to her sewing. She 
was making a white cloak. It was of soft material, 
fluffy and white as the snow. Kenelm, looking at 
it, thought it must be a mass of little soft white feath¬ 
ers. 

“This,” said the girl, when she saw his eyes on 
her sewing, “is my new cloak. The snow came 
sooner than we expected, and so I’ve had to hurry 
with it. But it’s nearly finished now, and then I 
shall be able to go out again.” 

“She hardly gets her red and yellow autumn things 
ready before the snow comes flying down,” grumbled 
the Tree Man. “When I was young, things were 
not as they are now. Then we could plan for the 
seasons. Autumn was never winter and spring was 
never summer. No indeed. Then the seasons knew 
their places and kept them, I can assure you. They 
never came jumping along before we were naturally 

[ 64 ] 


THE FIRST SNOW STORM; 


expecting them. Things were different when I was 
young.” 

The tears that had frozen on the little Princess’ 
eyelashes and cheeks began to melt in the fire heat, 
and rolling down they now splashed on the floor. 
She laughed (a sound like the breaking up of ice in 
the tiniest of streams) and pointing to them cried, 
“Here are tears out of season. When I cried them 
they didn’t fall. And now, when I am happy, here 
they are!” 

The Tree Man smiled at that and stopped his 
grumbling. 

“Will you children have something to eat?” asked 
the Tree Girl. 

“Yes, thank you!” said Kenelm. “If it is com 
venient for you.” 

So the Tree Girl went to a cupboard in the wall 
and took out a brown bowl of beechnuts. Then the 
children feasted indeed. 

Now when they had eaten and were warmed and 
rested they began to speak of going home. But the 
little Princess shivered at the thought of facing the 
storm again. 

“Don’t shiver,” said the Tree Girl. “See, my 
cloak is finished, and you shall wear it, little Prin¬ 
cess. Father will take you to the edge of the forest 
and then bring it back to me.” 

So the little Princess was wrapped in the wonder¬ 
ful cloak. It felt like the softest feathers. It was 

[ 65 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


so very light the little Princess could hardly believe 
she had it on at all. She felt, even, that it might be 
easy to fly in it! 

“It’s getting quite dark,” said the Tree Man. 
“Better have a light before we go.” So saying he 
lighted a candle and stood it on the little round table. 
Then he drew warm, red, leaf-curtains over the win¬ 
dows. 

“If we didn’t draw our curtains when we have a 
light in here,” he said, “we’d have all the creatures 
of the forest peeking in at us. Forest dwellers are 
the most curious of folk.” 

Then they were ready to go, and the little Prin¬ 
cess kissed the Tree Girl goodbye. It was almost 
dark outside. The wind was howling over the tree 
tops and it was colder than ever. But the little 
Princess was quite snug and warm in her wonderful 
cloak, and as for Kenelm, lie was warm with happi¬ 
ness. 

When they came to the edge of the forest, there 
were the Snow Witches dancing around in a circle 
as though waiting for them. But the children clung 
to the Tree Man, and the Witches seeing how safe 
they were, whirled about and flew away shrieking 
over the forest. 

Then it was that Kenelm saw the House on the 
Edge of Things with every uncurtained window blos¬ 
soming through the cold and darkness. He knew 
that Grandame must be very anxious indeed about 

[ 66 ] 


THE FIRST SNOW STORM 


him. He must hurry. But first he took a great 
frosty breath of happiness. 

“That is my house,” he said, pointing. 

So the little Princess slipped the feathery cloak 
from her shoulders. The Tree Man took it—and 
suddenly disappeared in the shadows of the trees. 

The children clasped hands then and ran down to 
the house. A group of horses were standing outside 
the door, and there was a soldier holding them all by 
the bridles with one hand, and swinging the other 
arm about to keep it warm. It was the very soldier 
who had tried to catch Kenelm earlier in the day. 
He stared at the children, almost unbelieving. 
Kenelm, in his turn stared at the soldier, for what 
could he be doing there by the House on the Edge 
of Things! He did not stop to ask him, however, 
but pushed open the door and ran in, drawing the 
Princess with him. 

He stopped, amazed. There stood Grandame in 
her best cap and apron, and there stood the children, 
and there stood, in a corner, half a dozen soldiers, 
and there stood the servant, and they were all looking 
at a woman who was huddled up on a stool in front of 
the house fire. It was the Queen. But because she 
was bent over like an old woman, with her face hidden 
in her hands, Kenelm only knew that it was the 
Queen by the splendor of her gown. 

The little Princess ran to her. “Mother, mother,” 
she cried. 


[67] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


When the Queen heard that dear voice you may 
imagine how she sprang up and caught the little 
Princess to her breast. How tall and straight and 
young the Queen was then! 

“But where did you find her?” they all cried to 
Kenelm at once. “And how did you get her here ?” 

“We ourselves, although we scoured the forest 
for miles, couldn’t find her,” murmured the soldiers. 

But Grandame only said, “You must be hungry.” 

And, yes, they were hungry again, in spite of the 
beechnuts. So the servant hurried about, and in no 
time at all two steaming bowls of broth were on the 
table. Kenelm and the little Princess drew up their 
chairs. 

“But how did you find her?” asked everyone for 
about the hundredth time. 

And at last Kenelm heard them and answered. 
“Why, I followed the red leaf.” 

Everyone looked puzzled. 

“How is it that the little Princess is so warm and 
rested?” asked the Queen. 

Then the children told about the Tree Man and his 
daughter and their hospitality. 

The Queen laughed. “The cloak was the snow 
that fell on you,” she said. “It’s still there—some of 
it. And the rest was only part of the dream. You 
must have fallen to sleep out there in the cold, you 
two, and dreamed some of this.” 

“No, no,” cried the Little Princess, “it was a 

[ 68 ] 


THE FIRST SNOW STORM 


cloak that the Tree Girl made for the winter. The 
Tree Girl is real. She was friendly and kind,” and 
she looked at Kenelm across her steaming bowl of 
broth, almost ready to cry because her mother did 
not believe their story. 

Kenelm nodded to her, smiling surely. “Yes, it 
was truly the Tree Girl’s cloak and had nothing 
whatever to do with the snow or a dream,” said his 
nod and his smile. So the little Princess shook her 
curls and laughed instead of crying. 


Underneath the autumn trees. 

On the fallen yellow leaves, 

In the forest deep and wild, 

Once we found a golden child. 

Gold her hair was as the sun, 

And her frock was golden spun. 

But her face we could not see. 

She was crying bitterly. 

When we rustled in the leaves, 

Quick she popped up to her knees,— 

Laughed through sparkling tears and said, 

“Who is crying?” Then she fled. 

Underneath the autumn trees, 

On the fallen yellow leaves, 

In the forest deep and wild, 

We have lost the golden child. 

(From Kenelm’s verses.) 


[69] 


u 



O NE evening after supper there was an errand 
to be done in the village, and it happened that 
Stephen was the one sent on it. By the time he was 
ready to start for home again it was really night,—* 
but a big, white night because the sky was filled with 
stars. All the way up to the House on the Edge 
of Things, Stephen walked with his nose pretty well 
up in the air for he could not get the stars out of his 
eyes and mind. 

When he had almost reached his own door, he 

[ 70 ] 





























































4 6 


Was it YOU that fell across the sky ?” he said 







STARS 


jumped in the path and said “Ah!” For right 
across the sky a star had fallen. A wonderful trail 
of light, and it disappeared over behind the House 
on the Edge of Things! 

For one instant Stephen stood stock still, and then 
he ran. He ran past the house without a thought 
of it and on to the edge of the forest. There in the 
snow, just outside the tree line, lay something even 
whiter than the snow. By the time Stephen had 
reached it, it had risen to its knees. It was the most 
beautiful girl he had ever seen! 

Her face was very white, but a soft shining white 
that was lovely. Her frock was white and shining 
too. Her hair was darkest blue! And while she 
knelt there looking up at Stephen, it just touched the 
ground in two long braids. Her eyes were the color 
of the night-blue sky and magical to look into. 
Stephen could see her clearly for that starlight was, 
in a way, brighter than daylight. 

“Was it you that fell across the sky?” he panted. 
He had run very fast. 

“Yes, I fell from our star. We were playing too 
near the edge. I’m a Star-Child. Who are you?” 

“An Earth-Child,” said Stephen. “But you seem 
more than just a child. You’re nearly grown up!” 

“Oh, star people stay children a long, long while. 
I won’t be grown up for ever so long.” 

“But didn’t your fall hurt you?” asked Stephen. 

“No. The trees caught me with gentle arms and 

[ 71 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


dropped me softly here in the snow. I am fright¬ 
ened though!” 

“But why do you laugh if you’re frightened?” 

“Why, what else would I do, Earth-Child?” 

Stephen hesitated. “You could cry. Most any 
other girl would cry if she had had such a fall.” 

“I never heard of crying. I am afraid I don’t 
know how,” said the Star-Child, puzzled. Then she 
started to jump up, but she did not know how to use 
her light, star feet on the earth. 

“Ouch!” She tumbled back to her knees. “The 
ground is so very strange!” And then, for the first 
time in her life, tears came into the Star-Child’s eyes. 
Her tears were like starlight itself,—but in spite of 
that they were tears, and Stephen was troubled. 

“Oh don’t cry, please. Come home with me. 
You shall play with us boys and have a chest all 
your own in the sleeping room. Grandame and 
Kenelm and the others will be glad enough to have 
you. Don’t cry.” 

“Oh, I cannot stay on the Earth. I know it now. 
I should die before morning. A Star-Child is meant 
to live only in the sky. Yet, I have no wings and 
how am I ever to get back?” 

“If I had wings I’d give them to you,” said 
Stephen. “But I haven’t any either.” 

“But haven’t any of your playmates wings?” 

Stephen thought. And then he cried joyfully, 
“Yes, the bird fairies have, of course!” 

[72] 



STARS 


Now the bird fairies are called 4 ‘bird fairies’’ be¬ 
cause in the winter, when the first snow falls, they 
come down from the north and make their homes in 
the deserted birds’ nests in the forest. Fluffy little 
wings grow on their shoulders. They have very 
bright eyes. And they are just about the merriest 
fairies you would care to know. When the birds 
come back in the spring, the bird fairies stay on a 
while, teaching them their songs before they fly away 
to the frozen north, for, though the bird fairies can¬ 
not sing a note themselves, they carry any number 
of lovely songs around in their heads and these they 
teach to the birds. . . . 

This is how it happened that Stephen had made 
friends with the bird fairies. He loved the wind and 
storms and high places. And he loved to climb the 
tallest trees and look off over the wind-tossed forest 
roof. One winter morning, when he was sitting up 
in a big tree astride of a branch, a wind suddenly 
came blustering through the forest. The trees be¬ 
gan to groan and rock frightfully, and with the wind 
came the snow in sharp, cutting snatches. Stephen 
did not mind all that a bit. He only took a firmer 
grip on his branch with his knees. 

It was then that he noticed the birds’ nest in the 
fork of two branches beside him. Two fluffy- 
winged creatures were in it, huddled together and 
looking very much worried. 

“First comes the giant,” he heard one whisper, “to 

[78] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


all but step on our house, and now here is a storm 
worse than any giant! Ha! But that snow cuts!” 

“Oh me! Oh!” said the other one. “We ought 
never to have settled in a nest so high up! How are 
we to protect ourselves from these sharp swords?” 
(The swords were the snowflakes.) 

“Why, that is easy enough,” said Stephen, “I’ll 
cover you up with my cap.” 

With the words he had snatched the cap from his 
head and clapped it down over the nest. There was 
a startled fluttering under it, and then all was still. 
The storm was over in a little while, and when 
Stephen took up his cap, there were two very snug, 
very grateful little bird fairies to thank him. And 
that very day those two grateful little fairies told all 
their friends in the forest of the kind giant, and at 
once all the bird fairies thereabouts were his fast 
friends. But they would never let themselves be 
seen by the other children, for bird fairies, like birds, 
are shy of giants. 

But we have not forgotten the poor Star-Child 
there on her knees in the snow.. It was lucky for 
her that Stephen had made friends of the bird fairies. 

“Wait here,” he said, “and I’ll see if they’ll give 
you their wings.” 

He ran into the forest. “Bird fairies, bird fairies,” 
he called. “Stephen needs your help.” 

At once the air was full of soft fluttering, and the 
bird fairies flew in a cloud, some to alight on 

[74] 


STARS 


his shoulders and dozens to perch on each of his feet. 

When they were all settled and the wing noise was 
hushed, he told them about the poor Star-Child. 
They listened quietly, as they always did when the 
Giant Stephen spoke, and then they said, “Our wings 
don’t come off, dear Stephen. It is a pity.” Then 
they put their little heads together to wonder what 
they could do. 

At last one of them cried, “All of us together 
might manage to lift her and carry her back to the 
stars.” 

“Oh, come then and try,” begged Stephen, “for 
she cannot live on the Earth after it is morning.” 

So the bird fairies followed Stephen to where the 
Star-Child waited. They surrounded her in wonder, 
brushing their fluffy wings against her. Then she 
laughed, and Stephen laughed, and all the bird fairies 
laughed. That was starry music! 

“We’re off!” cried the bird fairies, pressing against 
her with their wings and starting up. 

“One minute— Oh let me down again. I want 
to kiss that Earth-Child goodbye,” begged the Star- 
Child. So they settled down to the ground again. 

Now unless you yourself have been kissed by a 
Star-Child on a white starlit night, you cannot know 
how glad Stephen was made. 

“Goodbye, goodbye,” he cried, as the bird fairies 
again rose with their beautiful burden. He stood 
there looking up until the lifting cloud of wings and 

[75] 



THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


the Star-Child melted away overhead in the star¬ 
light. 

Then his eyelids began strangely to drop and drop, 
and he stumbled towards home. 

Grandame asked no questions that night, for she 
saw the sleep in his eyes. The other children had 
tried to wait up for him but now they were sound 
asleep, their heads buried in their crossed arms on the 
table. Grandame roused them and hurried them off 
to bed. She had decided to save the scolding she 
had made up for Stephen for being so long with his 
errand until the morning when he would be wide 
enough awake to take it in. But by the morning, you 
will be glad to know, she had forgotten all about it! 

After breakfast, Stephen took his brothers to see 
the place where the Star-Child had fallen. It had 
snowed towards dawn and there were no traces left. 

“But what is this!” cried Kenelm, bending over a 
bit of gold in the snow. 

Stephen reached for it. It looked like a bit of 
the Star-Child’s frock. But it vanished under his 
hand. It was only a sunbeam. 

Sometime at night 
I mean to lie 

In the tip of a tall tree 
Under the sky. 

I shall not sleep and forget. 

But watch all night 

Till the bright stars set. 

. (From Kenelm’s verses.) 


[76] 



O NE frosty morning Alwin happened to be up 
earlier than the others and out of doors. To 
his joy, he found that a hard crust had formed on the 
snow over night. The first thing he did was to jump 
up and down on it to make sure that it was strong. 
He jumped with all his might but it did not break 
under him. 


[77] 













THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


Earlier in the winter the boys had made a sled 
for themselves. Alwin ran now and dragged it out. 

“I’ll take a slide on this wonderful crust before 
ever the others are up,” he thought. He meant to 
slide down the long hill towards the village. But 
he would not go all the way. No, he would stop 
about halfway down, and get back in time for break¬ 
fast. 

Now, just as he was about to run and push the 
sled and jump on, he saw a strange thing for an 
Earth-Child to see. He saw the Creatures of the 
Wind! 

Now Grandame had always told the children that 
the Creatures of the Wind are invisible. Why? 
Because they are the color of the air, and only on a 
day that is brighter than a day should be can one see 
the color of the air. 

But this was very early in the morning, a time 
when all the earth is as bright as a diamond. There 
was not a cloud in the sky. And now, for the first 
time in his life, Alwin could see the color of the air. 
It was purple,—and the Wind Creatures wore pur¬ 
ple cloaks. But he could not see why they were 
called “creatures.” They were just growing-up 
boys and girls. 

When he first caught sight of them, they were 
standing at the edge of the forest, looking off over 
the snow-crusted world. They seemed so beautiful 
and so harmless, hovering there all a tip-toe that he 

[ 78 ] 


WIND 


wanted to call out to them. But almost the in¬ 
stant he spied them, they spied him and suddenly 
pointed at him. Then it was that Alwin saw their 
tall purple wings, lifted for flying. 

When, with these great wings spread and holding 
hands, they came sweeping towards him, he was 
afraid. Wings gave these growing-up boys and girls 
such a look of strength! The nearer they came, the 
smaller he felt. And when they were almost upon 
him, he could stay there no longer but sprang for his 
sled. 

But he was too late. Before the sled was fairly 
started on its downward flight, the Wind Creatures 
had overtaken it. Alwin felt them pushing at it, and 
heard them laughing. Some of the swifter ones ran 
beside him, brushing their wings against his face. 
The sled took on speed. Faster and faster it sped, 
but the Wind Creatures had no trouble at all in 
keeping up with it. Indeed, it was they who gave it 
great pushes and made it fly faster. 

Down the long hill it rushed and into the village. 
Only a few people were stirring at that early hour. 
But before those few could blink once, the flying 
thing was past, and they could not be sure that they 
had seen it at all. 

Out of the village and down another long hill, and 
across a field to a wide lake, rushed the Wind Crea¬ 
tures, the sled and Alwin. The ice was smooth and 
shining on the lake. Alwin saw it a long way off 

[79] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


and thought it must be the sea about which he was 
forever dreaming. He began to enjoy his ride. He 
began to think now that the Wind Creatures were 
only playing with him and meant him no harm. And 
how fine it was to be having such a long slide! 
Never before in his life had Alwin ever traveled so 
fast. Almost before he had seen the lake he was on 
it and skimming across. There was a little rise from 
the opposite bank but the sled took it like a bird. 
On, on, on,—through another and a strange town, 
over fields and meadows, he sped, and at last bounded 
into a long straight road that led to something like a 
palace in the distance. 

All the way the Wind Creatures had kept up with 
him, laughing and shouting and pushing the sled. 
But now, on the long road, they grew tired of the 
game, and waving him a goodbye, sped away over 
the fields in another direction. But there was one 
of the Wind Creatures that stayed with him. Now 
it jumped on the sled behind him. He knew that it 
was there by the soft touch of its wings as they 
spread against his cheeks, and the firm pressure of 
its knees in his back. 

They were slowing down now, and Alwin turned 
to look at his companion. He could see nothing 
at all. It had become invisible as the dav had be- 
come less bright. But he heard its soft chuckle. 

Slower and slower glided the sled down the long 
road, and at last it stood quite still under the wall 

[ 80 ] 


WIND 


of the palace. No sooner had it come to a stop than 
a door in the wall was flung open and a man leapt 
out. He seized Alwin by his arm and jerked him 
from the sled. There was a startled outcry and a 
beating of wings as the last Wind Creature fled away. 

“You needn’t squirm so,” said the man. “That’s 
no use at all. You’re the first fairy I’ve ever laid 
hands on, and I don’t mean that you shall get away. 
Won’t the Prince be tickled though!” 

But Alwin did squirm, and kick too. He was very 
much frightened. The man, however, said not an¬ 
other word, but carried him right up to the front 
entrance to the palace and into a room where an old 
man sat before a fire. 

“What have you there?” asked the Prince, for a 
prince it was, staring with great, dark eyes. “A 
boy?” 

“Not a boy at all, Prince, but a real fairy!” 

“Hand it here then,” commanded the old man, 
grasping Alwin by the shoulders so that he could not 
possibly get away. 

“Sir, I’m not a fairy! I’m an Earth-Child!” cried 
Alwin, for he did not at all like being handled so 
roughly. 

The old man frowned. “What makes you think 
it’s a fairy?” he asked the servant suspiciously. 

“Why the way it came , Prince. Nothing but a 
fairy could come flying along like that. I was clean¬ 
ing snow from the wall when all of a sudden, away 

[ 81 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 

off, I saw a thing come flying. Nothing mortal that 
I have ever seen travels so fast. Sometimes I lost 
sight of it behind little hills but it always came on 
again, and it was headed straight for me. Well, 
Prince, I jumped off the wall and waited behind the 
door, meaning to jump out and catch it as it winged 
by. And so I did. And this is the creature I 
caught. There was another with it for I heard him 
fly away. But a person can’t expect to catch two 
fairies in one day. So I satisfied myself with the 
one.” 

“But, I’m not a fairy, I tell you!” cried Al- 
win. 

“We shall see,” said the old Prince, and he began 
feeling of Alwin’s shoulders for wings that might be 
growing under his coat. 

“He isn’t a winged fairy,” he said at last when 
he had made sure that there were no wings there. 
“But his feet,—take off his stockings and let me see 
his feet!” 

The servant pulled off Alwin’s sandals then, and 
his warm woolen stockings, and behold his feet were 
the feet of an Earth-Child, having five toes. 

“Very strange,” mumbled the servant, much dis¬ 
appointed indeed. “But if it isn’t a fairy, then 
where did it come from?” 

“Why, from the House on the Edge of Things,” 
said Alwin promptly. “And it’s a pity say I if a 
boy can’t take a slide on his very own sled with- 

[ 82 ] 


WIND 


out being taken for a fairy and caught like this!’" 

“Don’t be saucy,” warned the servant. “You’re 
in the room with a Prince, remember!” 

“The House on the Edge of Things,” murmured 
the Prince. “That is a queer name for a house. I 
never heard of such a house. Is it hereabouts?” 

“No, it is a long way from here. Grandame and 
Ivenelm and my brothers live there.” 

“Who is Grandame?” asked the Pirince. 

“She’s Kenelm’s grandmother.” 

“Never heard of her. But wait! Perhaps it’s old 
Granny Grim who passes here every night with her 
bundle of sticks.” 

“Indeed, no! When there are sticks to carry, we 
carry them.” 

“Well, who is Grandame then? What does she 
look like? Speak up and prove what you say, or we 
may still think you’re a fairy!” 

Now Alwin puzzled and puzzled before he could 
answer that question. What did Grandame look 
like? 

“Why, she most always wears a cap,” he said at 
last. 

“All grandmothers wear caps. What is her face 
like?” 

Alwin thought and thought. “Her face is just 
a face,” he said at last. “But her eyes are like the 
stars.” 

“What!” cried the old Prince, sitting up in his chair. 

[ 83 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


“Yes, like the stars,” said Alwin, nodding, for he 
was sure enough of that. 

“Come, come, then. Show me where you live!” 
cried the Prince. And to the servant he said, “Bring 
me my coat!” 

“It’s very cold out, sir. And the boy himself says 
it’s a long way there.” 

But the old man did not hear him. “Eyes like the 
stars!” he was whispering. “It can be no other than 
she—the Friend of my Youth ! 33 

“Are you quite sure her eyes are like the stars?” 
the servant questioned Alwin. “For if they are, then 
your Grandame is the friend of my Prince’s youth!” 

Alwin was quite, quite sure. 

So the servant brought the old man his coat and 
hat and the three of them set out for the House on 
the Edge of Things. Alwin and the servant drew 
the sled, and the old man walked on ahead. 

After they had been walking for some time, Alwin 
said to the servant, “Your master’s house is very fine 
and large!” 

“Yes,” said the servant, “of course it is. He 
married a Princess.” 

Alwin was delighted. “Is she back there at the 
palace? I should like to see another princess. I 
have only seen one.” 

“No, she died long ago.” 

On and on they went. At last they came to the 
lake. 


[84] 



WIND 


“Are you quite sure, little boy, that your Gran- 
dame’s eyes are like the stars?” asked the Prince who 
had stopped and waited until they could come up to 
him. / 

Alwin was quite, quite sure. 

“It is she. It is she,” murmured the Ptrince. And 
he walked on faster. 

They stopped in the first town they came to to 
have luncheon at the inn there. Alwin was very 
hungry indeed, for he had had no breakfast. But 
he was not a bit tired. He was enjoying the long 
walk over the crust in the crisp air. 

It was supper time when they reached Alwin’s own 
village. But they did not stop there. They went 
on up the hill toward the House on the Edge of 
Things. It was sunset as they came in sight of it. 

“There it is,” cried Alwin proudly pointing. 

Every window in the house blazed with the sunset 
light. The Prince and the servant stopped and 
stood looking up at it. 

“ ’Tis a pleasant enough place,” said the servant. 
“But nowhere near so large and fine as our palace.” 

“ ’Tis a perfect place,” said the old man, but he 
did not move. 

“We’ll be just in time for supper,” Alwin said 
hospitably. 

But the old Prince turned his eyes slowly away 
from gazing and said, “No, no. We are going back 
now. I only wanted to have one look at the place 

[ 85 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


where the Friend of my Youth is dwelling.” With¬ 
out another word he turned and walked away. The 
servant followed him. 

Alwin was amazed. “All this way for that,” he 
thought. “Old men are funny!” Then he ran up 
to the house. Just as he came to the doorstone, the 
door was pushed open and Kenelm and the others 
stood on tiptoe there. 

“Who were the people with you?” they asked. 
“That was a fine fur coat the old man was wearing— 
and such a grand wide hat! He must be a great 
person. At least a count!” 

“He is a prince. He married a princess,” said Al¬ 
win proudly. Then he asked, “Grandame’s eyes 
are like the stars, aren’t they?” 

“Yes,” said the others, readily. “Anyone can see 
that.” 

“Then,” said Alwin, still more proudly, “she was 
the Friend of that Prince's Youthf* 

How good his supper tasted after that day’s 
strange adventure! 

When the streams flow. 

When the winds blow, 

When the birds rush through the sky, 

I long to go 
Gloriously so! 

Why can’t I fly? 

(From Kenelm’s verses.) 


[86] 



. . 



—!<iWm • 

■lilC Ka P t 

.(..'Luuy^frrni-L.^kL 


«/.,, 
v'l'il.iN 

MlV 1(1 


Spring Wa.)i e % 

T HE children were 
playing in the 
snow away back in 
the forest. Kenelm 
and Peter had wan¬ 
dered even farther 
in than the others. 
They came to a deep 
snowdrift down in 
a hollow among some rocks. 

“Let’s dig a hole here,” suggested Kenelm. 
“When we hide in it the others will have a hard time 
finding us.” 


[87] 


























THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


“That’s an idea,” said Peter. Then the two set to 
work. The snow was soft and loose. It was easy 
enough to scoop it out with their hands. They 
worked together silently until “There, the hole is just 
about large enough now,” said Peter straightening 
up. 

“But what is this?” cried Kenelm, starting back. 

There in the snow shone a bit of something that 
looked like gold. They felt of it,—and found that 
it was a bright curl! Hastily they dug a little deeper 
and uncovered a lot of bright curls. They were 
growing on a head! 

“What can it be?” they whispered to each other, 
trembling,—for they could think nothing else but 
that the owner of those bright curls must be buried 
in the snowdrift, frozen and dead. 

Quickly they dug a little deeper. Yes, there was 
the body. Breathless, they scooped all the snow 
away from it, and there was a young man sound 
asleep! They could not see his face for it was 
buried in his crossed arms. 

“He is only asleep and not dead,” whispered 
Kenelm, “for see how he is breathing.” 

Peter touched the bright curls. “Wake up,” he 
said softly. “Who are you?” 

The young man only moved a little, burying his 
face deeper in his arms. 

“Wake up! Wake up!” cried Peter again, this 

[88J 



SPRING WAKES 


time much louder. “You ought not to go to sleep in 
a snowdrift!” 

The young man yawned, stretched himself and 
rolled over on his back. He had a wonderfully 
bright face. The children drew back in awe of its 
beauty. He still slept, but he frowned a little as 
though he heard Peter’s voice through his dreams. 

“Come, we must wake him,” said Kenelm de¬ 
cidedly. Then they seized the young man and shook 
him by the shoulders. 

Now he did wake indeed. He sat up in the snow¬ 
drift. “What’s all the fuss about?” he asked. “Am 

I late?” Then seeing who it was had disturbed him, 
he stared. “Who are you?” he cried. 

“We are— we. Who are you ? 33 they asked in 
hushed voices. 

“Why, I am Spring,” said the young man. “But 
you have no right to break into my sleep like this! 
I was having such fine dreams, too! And only look, 
the snow is all around. It isn’t time for me to wake 
up at all. Or,—are you messengers from the Sun?” 

“No, we are just children,” admitted the boys, 
abashed a little. 

“Well, I have never been waked by just children 
before,” said Spring crossly. “The best thing you 
can do now is to cover me up again quickly and go 
away. The Sun, whose business it is, will uncover 
me again all in good time.” 

[ 89 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


“Oh, it will take the Sun a long time to find you 
down among these cold rocks,” cried Kenelm, kneel¬ 
ing by the young man. “And it has been winter so 
long! We are tired of winter! Come and play with 
us, Spring. Please do!” 

“Oh, oh, Ahhhhhh! I am so sleepy! And it 
was such a nice dream!” 

“Tell it to us then,” said Peter, who unlike most 
people liked hearing dreams. 

“Why it was all about how I was running a race 
with the crocuses, and they were just at my heels. 
But I was winning!” 

“ I’d rather be running a real race than dream¬ 
ing about one,” said Kenelm. 

Spring turned toward him with a beautiful, sleepy 
smile. “Yes, that’s right. Fd rather too. But you 
are wise for just a child!” 

“So you will get up?” cried the boys, encouraged 
by his smile. 

For answer, Spring reached up his hands to them. 
They pulled, and he bounded to his feet. 

“Hurray, let’s take him to Grandame and the 
others!” cried the happy children. “And the god¬ 
dess—she will like seeing him too!” 

And they ran off through the forest drawing their 
new playfellow with them. As they ran, green grass 
sprang up under their feet and the trees rang with 
bird-songs. 

And now the Earth-Children saw many things that 

[ 90 ] 



i i 


y y 


Come and play with us, Spring 








































































































SPRING WAKES 


had always been hidden from them before. There 
were all the stranger forest people caught out in their 

white clothes and hurrying home to change to green. 
And there w r as the shy Tree Girl running towards 
them. When she had almost reached them she sud¬ 
denly lifted her eyes and saw Spring and the chil¬ 
dren. Like a flash, she hid behind a bush. Kenelm 
understood her shyness because he was a poet, and 
when the others would have called to her, he pulled 
them on. He was sorry for the Tree Girl. “For 
now perhaps she will have to sit up all night sewing 
on her green frock,” he thought. 

Then before them scurried the beautiful, cruel 
w r itch, and banged the door of her tree shut in their 
faces. But she opened it again on a crack to mock 
them as they passed. “I’m not sorry to be seen by 
you Earth-Children,” she called. “I’m so beautiful 
whether in white or green that you may well look 
at me!” 

But strangest of all were the Snow Witches. 
They were gathered in a glade, evidently having some 
sort of an argument, for they were waving their long 
arms about excitedly and tearing their streaming 
hair in fury. But when they saw Spring they in¬ 
stantly grew still as still and all crouched down behind 
a hollow tree that was lying on the ground. Spring 
and Peter paid no attention to them but Kenelm 
stopped and grabbed one of the trembling witches 
by her streaming white hair. 

[ 91 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


“Cruel Snow Witch,” he cried, “why did you tor¬ 
ment the little Princess?” 

The witch did not answer him, but her knees shook 
frightfully. 

Kenelm could not resist shaking her well, remem¬ 
bering that fearful day when the little Princess had 
been lost. 

“I have a good will to drag you home with me and 
tie you in a chair for the fire to serve,” he said. 

At that the witch covered her face with her hands. 
“Don’t do that,” she whispered, and her great witch- 
eyes peered out at him through her fingers. “Let 
me go away with my sisters to hide in the deep forest. 
When it is winter again I promise never to torment 
any of you. Only let me go!” 

“Oh, you are meek enough now because Spring is 
here,” laughed Kenelm. “But when winter comes 
and you are strong again, see you keep your word!” 

So saying he let go her hair, and she tottered 
weakly away over the ground to find her sisters who 
had forsaken her. Kenelm hurried on to catch up 
with the others. 

Soon there was much shouting and laughing. It 
was the other children. They had been snow¬ 
balling each other, but they stopped to laugh when 
the snow suddenly melted away in their hands. How 
rejoicingly they greeted their returned companions 
—and Spring! 

Then altogether they ran towards the House on 

[ 92 ] 


SPRING WAKES 


the Edge of Things. From the edge of the forest 
they saw that all the windows and doors were open. 
And in the doorway stood the goddess, her work ut¬ 
terly forgotten. Grandame was bending over some¬ 
thing out in the garden. 

She saw the children and beckoned them. Spring 
reached her side first. She seemed not at all sur¬ 
prised to see him but showed him the little crocuses 
that were just peeping above the ground. His face 
fell. 

“The scamps!” he cried. “They have beaten me 
here!” 

“Where are you going?” shouted the children, run¬ 
ning up,—for Spring had started off at a great pace 
down the hill. 

He turned at their voices. “I’m going to beat the 
crocuses into town at any rate,” he called, running 
backwards a second. “But I must run to do it!” 

And then he turned and did run, leaping and 
bounding down the long hill into the village. The 
villagers saw him coming and opened their doors 
and windows to watch the race. And lo—the cro¬ 
cuses were just at his heels. 

But he won. So Spring’s dream came true. 

We dance to meet the Seasons. 

We joy to see them come. 

We joy, too, to see them go, 

And greet another one. 

(From Kenelm’s verses.) 


[93] 


% 





fTk.e. <®eR.AVo in &.H 


O NE morning when Grandame opened the door 
of the House on the Edge of Things there 
stood a Stranger-Woman on the doorstone. 

“Good morning,” said Grandame. 

“Good morning,” said the Stranger-Woman. 
Kenelm ran to look over Grandame’s shoulder. 
When he saw who it was standing there he pulled 
Grandame by her sleeve. 

“ ’Tis the red leaf,” he whispered. Then he 
went out and gave the Stranger-Woman his hand. 
He was delighted and excited to see her again. 

“Will you honor us by sharing our breakfast?” 
asked Grandame, looking very hard at the woman; 
for if she should suddenly take it into her head to 

[ 94 ] 

































THE STRANGER-WOMAN 


turn into a leaf again Grandame meant to see how 
the trick was done. 

“Thank you. I have come far.” 

All the children gathered around her in the 
kitchen, staring with wide, wide eyes because she was 
so beautiful. 

“You say it is a long way you have come?” asked 
Grandame, when they were seated at the breakfast 
table. 

“From the deepest place in the forest,” answered 
the woman. 

The children grew wider eyed. They had never 
been to the deepest place in the forest but they knew 
that it must be very dark and wild. They had heard 
it said that all cruel witches and goblins made their 
homes there. 

“Isn’t it lonely?” asked Peter. “Aren’t you 
afraid?” 

The Stranger-Woman laughed and shook her head. 
“I wonder that you children have never wanted to 
explore it,” she said. “You see, in a way, the forest 
all belongs to you because you play in it. So, I 
should think you would want to know all about it.” 

“We do,” they answered. “But the deepest place 
has always seemed so far away,—and so dark!” 

The Stranger-Woman looked puzzled at that. “If 
you will come with me now I will take you to see 
for yourselves just how far away and dark the deep¬ 
est place is,” she said rising. 

[ 95 ] 


THE HOUSE. ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 

The children looked at one another a little startled, 
but glad too. “Why not?” their eyes said. 

“And that is just the reason I am here,” said the 
Stranger-Woman. “I grew tired of waiting all 
these months for you to come to the deepest place,— 
and so here I am to fetch you.” 

And that is how it came about that Kenelm and 
Peter and Stephen and Alwin and even little Christo¬ 
pher set out for the deepest place in the forest one 
early summer morning. Grandame, whose curi¬ 
osity was as great as the children’s, suddenly said she 
would go too. And then even the goddess asked to 
join them. They set off joyfully because it was such 
a beautiful summer morning and because they were 
going on an adventure. 

All the way Grandame kept a sharp eye on their 
guide for she expected her to turn into a leaf at any 
minute. But the beautiful Stranger-Woman re¬ 
mained a beautiful Stranger-Woman to the end and 
she walked quietly along like an ordinary human be¬ 
hind the children with Grandame and the goddess. 
If at times she wanted very much to become a light, 
free, dancing leaf and whirl ahead with Kenelm and 
the others she did not let herself. 

It was almost noon when at last she said, “We are 
nearly there.” 

Then the trees suddenly began to crowd closer and 
closer together. It was like night under their inter¬ 
locking branches. The children hung back, press- 

[ 96 ] 


THE STRANGER-WOMAN 

ing closer to the three women. Then came the pat¬ 
tering of little feet in the shadows around them. Oh, 
how those little feet did patter! Strange creatures 
fled before them in the forest twilight. Closer and 
closer the Earth-People drew together. Only the 
Stranger-Woman stepped boldly forward. Gran- 
dame took little Christopher’s hand. “Courage,” 
she whispered. 

“Here we are,” said the Stranger-Woman’s voice 
from the darkness. That singing voice gave them 
heart. They shut their eyes and pushed ahead into 
the darkness. There the pattering of little feet grew 
louder and louder. Little Christopher never let go 
of Grandame’s hand. 

The darkness lasted only a minute. Then a sudden 
light drew their eyes wide open. They had come 
out from the crowded trees and were standing on the 
top of a little hill. Before them the world stretched 
away as far as their eyes could see. Right at the foot 
of the little hill flowed a broad river. It was the 
forest stream grown up. Fields and meadows were 
all about, smiling in broad sunshine. Beyond the 
fields rose the walls of a city, its towers and steeples 
gleaming. Beyond the river, beyond the fields, be¬ 
yond the city, lay a great blue water that lost itself, 
after a long look in the sky. It was the sea! 

“The sea! The sea!” cried Alwin, half beside him¬ 
self with ioy. “Oh, look at the winged ships. 
Look! Look!” 


[97] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


But everyone was looking. It was a company 
of eyes there on the little hilltop. 

Peter asked, “Where is the deepest place in the 
forest then?” 

“Why, this is it,” said the Stranger-Woman. 

“The trees begin again somewhere over there on the 
other side of the sea.” 

So that was the place they had feared and dreamed 
about! Just a great sunny place full of beautiful, 
smiling fields, the city and the sea!—Then what was 
that other part of the forest like, that part beyond 
the sea, Alwin wondered. 

“What a fine place to live on this, hilltop would 
make!” exclaimed Kenelm. 

The Stranger-Woman looked very much pleased 
at that. “That is just what I hoped you would 
say.” 

“What should we name our house here?” asked 
Grandame. 

The children all turned to Grandame in quick sur¬ 
prise. Could she really be thinking of building a 
new house for them here! They were dismayed. 

“It’s wonderful here,” said Kenelm, suddenly 
breathless. “But I was only imagining. Our 
old house is quite good enough.—Besides, the poppies 
we planted haven’t even begun to come up yet. We 
certainly want to see what colors they will be. So, 
oh please let us go back, if only for a little while, and 
live in the House on the Edge of Things.” 

[ 98 ] 



THE STRANGER-WOMAN 

His comrades cried out at that, “Oh, Kenelm! 
Why?” 

“Of course we can come back here often and look 
off towards the city and the sea,” he said hastily. 
“Now that we’ve once found where it is, it will be 
easy to come again.” 

It began to look as though Kenelm were pleading 
with the Stranger-Woman, as, though she had the 
power to make them build their house wherever she 
would. Suddenly she looked very large to the chil¬ 
dren, and almost terrifying. But what she said was 
kind enough, though she seemed disappointed. 

“You are such brave sturdy children that I have 
wanted to bring you to this hilltop for months. I 
see now I have come for you too soon. But I must 
not hurry you. I was too eager. You are such 
sturdy children! Well, then run away back to the 
edge of the forest, if you must, for a little while 
longer.” 

Little Christopher who until now had been silent, 
suddenly clapped his hands. He shouted, “Hurray! 
We’re going back!” 

So they said goodbye to the Stranger-Woman. 
“But soon,” she called after them, “I’ll come for you 
again. Remember and watch for me!” 

Kenelm turned back to cry, “Yes, we’ll watch for 

you, and be glad to see you,—sometime.” 

Then he bounded on to overtake the others. 

The children pranced and shouted and sang much 
of the way home. Even Grandame danced a little, 

[ 99 ] 


THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THINGS 


danced like a blade of grass in the wind and sun, 
she was so very happy. 

That night they lighted a fire on the hearth, for 
although it was early summer, the evenings were cool. 
After supper they sat down quietly before the bright 
blaze while Grandame told them a story. It was a 
stoiy about sea serpents and talking animals and 
fairy godmothers and the Land of the Stars. It 
was a story to delight the heart of any child. But 
long before the end little Christopher had fallen fast 
asleep with his head in Grandame’s lap. 

Here in our house 

On the edge of things, 

We hear the beat 
Of steady wings 

’Gainst the doors and windows. 

Hush! 

Low glows the fire. 

Grandame is asleep. 

Hush! On our toes 
And out doors creep. 

We can’t see. But we hear! 

Hush! 

Open the doors, 

And the windows, too. 

Let in the wings. 

Oh! Let them through. 

’Round the room hear them beat! 

Hush! 

(From Kenelm’s verses.) 


[ 100 ] 


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